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RHETORICAL GRAMMAR: 

IN WHICH THE 

COMMON IMPROPRIETIES 

IN 

REi\DING AND SPEAKING 

A&E DETECTED, 

AND 

;; THE TRUE SOURCES OF ELEGANT PRONUNCIATION 

*••*'•;•* ARE POINTED OUT. 

• i'H'- 

♦ -•- • 

-. *. . WITH A 

V :'. COMPLETE ANALYSIS OF THE FOICE, 

.' - '• • SHOWING Its 

\ ': ■ SPECIFIC MODIFICATIONS, 

» f. • •• AND now THEY MAY BE APPLIED TO DIFFERENT SPECIES OF SENTENGSS« 

•••- * And thefeveDp|2?.*- 

>:^ . FIGURES OF r!e?ETORIC. 






TO WHICH ARE ADDEDj 

Outlines of Composition^ 



. ?>• OR, 

,- V^: PLAIN RULES FOR WRITING ORATIONS AJ^P 

* /r^t" SPEAKING THEM IN PUBLIC. - / • - ' 






■.N 



i}1f THE THIRD EDITION, - . 

%\ WITH CONSIDERABLE ALTERATIONS AND ADDITIONS^ . < . 



• *.- 






• * 



BY JOHN WALKER, 

AUTHOIl OF THE CRITICAL PRONOUNCING DICTIONARY, 
ELEMENTS Ok' £LOCIjnON« ftc. 



Est autem in dicendo, ciiam quida?n catUus. 

CICEBO. OIIAT. 



LONDON : 

VRINTED BY 8. HAMIUION, FALCON-COURT, FLEET-STREET, ' 

FOR THE AUTHOR ; 

AND SOLD BY G.G. AND J. JtOBINSON, FATEKNOSTER-RO\r^ 

AND T. CADELL & W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAND. 






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TO 



DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



SIR, 

XF the conferring of benefits be what com- 
monly constitutes a Patron, — to Students in Elo- 
cution you are the greatest patron in the king- 
doin. You not only first awakened the public 
to an attention to their language, but, by an Her- 
culean labour, afforded them a guide which 
has conducted them to a thousand improve- 
ments. This was suflficient to attract the admi- 
ration and acknowledgments of your country, 
if yo^.had not shown, by your moral and criti- 
cal Writings, that, though you were the only 
person proper to undertake so laborious a task, 
you were almost the only one who ought to have 
been exempted from it. But though I am proud 
of an opportunity of confessing my obligations 
to your public labours, I am much more ambi- 
tious of telling the world that I have been long 



honoured with the friendship and advice of 
him whose name will be mentioned among the 
Lockes, the Newtons, and the Fenelons, as the 
friend of Revelation^ and whose life is an indis- 
putable proof of the sincerity of his attachment 
to it. 

- < 
I am, ' 

SIR, 

With the greatest Respect, 

Yoiff obliged 

Humble Servant, 

/. WALKER. 



S: fA, Harltj-Slrett, 

Ciivendiih-Smare, 



PREFACE 



TO THE THIRD EDITION. 



X KtE present edition is almost a hew work. 
The praxis of sentences, so arranged as to lead 
the pupil from the easiest to the most difficult, 
seemed better calculated for the lower cldss of pu* 
pils in reading than for students in rhetoric, and 
therefore this has been omitted. The want of 
Rules for Composition, so essential in rhetoric, 
has been supplied from the best source^-Blair's 
Lectures : and what was deficient even in these 
has been furnished from Professor Ward's Lec- 
tures on Oratory: — so that with the original mat- 
ter on the elegant pronunciation of words, on 
accent^ emphasis, and inflexion of voice, and 
the proper prominciation of the Figures of Rhe- 
toric, it is presumed the present work is the 
most perfect of its kind in the language. 
. A powerfvil motive, indeed, for enlarging the 
Rhetorical Grammar to its present size, was, to 
give i- complete idea of the two circumflexes of 



{ vi ) 

the speaking voice. The two simpre inflexions^ 
the rising and falling, had been several times de- 
lineated on copper-plates, in Elements of Elocu* 
tion 5 but the two complex inflexions, called cir- 
cumflexes, though frequently described, had not 
been marked out to the eye ; and these appeared 
so inseparable from the human voice, so new^ 
and of such real utility in teaching to read and 
speak, that I could scarcely think I had dis« 
charged my duty to my country till I had given 
th^ae modifications of the speaking voice as clear 
toffxpjanation as I was able. ; 
, The Sanguine tepectations I had once entet"* 
tain'^, that this analysis of the human voica 
•fcrould be received by the teamed with avidity 
and applause, . are now ov^r. 1 have almost 
>yom out a long life in laborious es;ertions^ 4nd^ 
though I have succeeded beyojjd expectation 
in forming readers and speak^r^ la the most re- 
spectable circles in the three kingdoms, yet I 
have had the mortification to find few of my 
pupils listen to any thing but my pronunciation* 
When I have explained td them the five modifi- 
cations of the voice, they have absented and ad- 
mired ; but so difficult did it appear to adopt 
them, especially to those advanced in life, that 
I was generally obliged to follow the old method, 
(if it may be called so) " read as I read, without 
any i^easoafor it/'-*-rBut without pretending tq 



( vii ) 

the gift of prophecy, I think I can foresee that 
sooner or later these distinctions of the voice 
must become the vehicle of instruction in read- 
ing and speaking. It is not improbable that the 
active genius of the French, who are so remairk- 
ably attentive to their language, may fir^t adopt 
this vehicle ; and if this should happen, I hope 
it will be remembered, that an unassisted and 
unpatronised Englishman was the first who dis- 
coverea and explained it. 



AiB 



^ 



CONTENTS. 



T ^H^ 

Antroductiok. ...... 

Observations on somt qf tht principal Faults in the Pramm- 

ciation qf the generality of Pupils, with the Methods of 

correcting them -.---------- S 

Too slightly soundings the Unaccented bowels - - - - • ib« 

Wacering and uru^ertain Pronunciation of the yauxls under 

the Secondary Accent ----------- ft 

The Liquid Sound of K, C, or G, luird, before the Foioels 

J and I - 11 

The Liquid Sound of Tj D, S, and soft C (ifter the Accent, 

and b^ore the Semi-consonant Diphthongs ^ - - - - 13 

Suppressing the Sound of the Final Consonants - - - • 13 
The rot^h and smooth Sound of R -----.-17 

Hissing too much the Terminations tlon and sion - - • 19 

Pronouncing S indistinctly qfter ST ------- ib. 

Pronouncing Wfor F, and inversely ------- 20 

Not sounding H after W ---------21 

Not sounding H where it ought to be sounded, and inversely, ib. 
Observations on the Pronunciation qf certain fFordsJre* 

quently mistaken in Reading ---------»2$ 

The 4rue Sound of the Auxiliary Ferbs : (dsQ, when ed makes 

a distinct Syllable, and when not ------- it « 

If hen you. is to be pronounced like ye, and my like me - • 26 
fFhen of, from, and by, are to have a kn^, and when a 

short, Sound' - -- - -.- - - -- -.- - 30 

How to pronounce the Possessive thy -------32 

How to pronounce the Ac^ective Possessive mine • • - 35 

The indistinct Sound qf the^ IFord not ----•• 37 

/Ho^ to pronounce tlie Participial Termination ing • - - 3S 

flow to pronqunpe the IFord to yshen succeeded by you • 40 



X CONTENTS. 

RcadiT^ defincd.'^I^ f^da^an ^0 Spiking * - -^ - • 41 
General Idea qf the comtnon Doctrine of punctuation - - 4S 
Hketorical Punctuation -,**•*------ 50 

Ptactiad System of Rhetorical PuTKtuation - . • « . ^56 
Vf ffisible Punctuation ----»----.-- ib^ 

Rtdes for Pausing ••-.---•*---- 59^ 

7^ principal Pause in the Compact Sentence . - r - lb • 
The principal Pause in the Loose Sentence . . « - . (52 
The siAordinate Pause in the Compact Sentence - - - . ib, 
Audihk PunctusUian ----.--.•^-.75 

Explanation of the Injlexionsqf the Foice - - • - • 77 
Explanation ofPlaie the Ftrsf ----.r---go 

The ^fer^t States of 4he Foice 81? 

PracticalSrfstemqf the Inflexions of the Voice .... $4 

Cottrpact SenteTKe-^Direct Period toith Two Conjunctions - ib. 
Direct Period with One Corgunction .-•«.. .$7 
Imeried Period -------..-.«. 9Q 

jtoosf Sentence -----•----.--92^ 

Ortkoi^alFigures, or Figures qf Pronunciation ' • - - 95 
Tie lttefrogati0n ------------g^ 

m^ indefinite Question --..---.-..ib. 
TVd^iBltfQu^tf^ion ••--•.......99 

The Exdamation ....--.-..... 101 

Jlfcf Parenthesis --..----,.'..- io4 

JjIc Commencement -.-.*.--.---. 206 
yAe Contrast -*-----•--. -.-io9 

The SsrieS'^The C&mmendng Series - - - - - . -112 

The Cbndudvng Series •.-....-..,.|}^ 

The Question and Ansveer .--.«...«.]}g 
The Echo -..-!-•-."*..-•-. 120 
iTAf Antecedent •^..-•-^-...- 124 
The FariiUion -.-.-----.,,. 128 

!iftr Peridd and^the Method of forming a Cadence - - - 1 3 1 
0)1 Accented Force ----.---.--.vJ35^ 



CONTENTS. xf 

P»ge 
On Emphatic Farce -.---*----.- 1S7 

0^hit it is that constitutes Emphasis •-•--«« 139 

On the diferent Farces of Emphatic ff^ords - - '• • • 145 

On the Propriety of marking Emphatic Words - - • - 147 

A Method of marking the different F&rces offTards • - - 14$ 

VtiU^ qf understanding the different Ii^exions and dif^ 

ferent Forces of Words ------•--• 154 

JUtdes for reading f^erse --•--•--*-- 154 
Of the Jccent and Emphasis of f^erse •••-.•- I6i 
When the Poetical Accent is to be preserved, and tiAen not 1 65 
Hotx) e and o, tohen apostrophised, are to be pronounced - 169 
Of the Pause or Casura qf Ferse " ------- 17() 

Of the Cadence of Verse •...--17^ 

Ofi Blank Ferse -..-.-* - 179 

, Explanation' of the Figures of Rhetoric, "-^with Directions 

fortheproper Method of pronouncing them - - - - 180 

Aparithmesas ; or Enumeration, Gradation, and Oimas - 1 94 
Epanaphora -------------- 19$ 

Prolepsis -----.-. ,-.--.- 202 

Synchoresis .-.----.*---•-•- 205 

Epanorthosis ----.------..- 207 

Anastrophe -•---1-- ...... 209 

Apostrophe -----.^--•-•..211 

Asyndeton and Pofy^ndeton ••••••-•• 212 

Enantiosis -.-.«•-..-.-•- 216 
Paralepsis --•-•,•--••.•• 220 
Anacdenosis -•--«-- •»-^.-- 221 

Hypotyposis ^--....- 224 

Vision ---..-#--------- 235 

Simile ••-.•.•---•-..- 239 
Prosopopma ---.----•'•--- 243 

Modulatiofi and Management qf the Voice . - - • . 249 
Instructions far acquiring Low Tones of Voice - - - - 25 1 

Instructions for acquiri^ig High Tofies of Voice ^ - . - 252 



^ 



%u CONTENTS. 

Page 
Jusiructionsfor the Management of the Foice - - - - 253 

Ruifis/ar Gesture --..--.--,-- 257 

On Composition - - - , - - - - - - - - -. - 26 1 

On Stj/kj Perspipdiy, and Precision ------- 267 

On the Structure of Sentences --------- 272 

On the -11 annon^ of Sentences ---- -----285 

The. general Characters of Stjfle^^ Diffuse, concise, SfC. - 292 

Directions for forming a proper Style - - - - . - - - 293 

On the Use of Topics or Common Places^ ^ - - - -. -306 
- • - < 

Of the Distribution of Oratory — Of Invention - - - - 512 

Of external Topics ------------ 321 

Of the State of a Controversy - - - - -.- - -. -332 

Of j^rguments suited to Demonstrative /Discourses - .- - 341 
Of Arguments suited to Deliberative Discourses - - - 35-1 
Of Arguments suited to Judicial Discourses - - - - - 360 

Cf the Cliaracter and Address of an Orator ' - - - -371 

Of tlie' Passions --•--.--•---- 379 



V 



f« 



INTRODUCTION. 



Rhetoric, or the Art of Persuasion, is 
of such importance in the great concerns of so- 
ciety, that it is not surprising so much has been 
written on this subject in every age and nation, 
where the Arts and Sciences have been culti- 
vated. The power of pleasing and persuad- 
ing those whom we address has excited every 
faculty in the mind of man, to detect, if possi- 
ble, the secret springs of that pleasure and per- 
suasion which gives us such dominion over the 
feelings of our fellow creatures. 

The ancients have left us everlasting monu- 
ments of their excellence in this art, and, in their 
endekvours to investigate the principles of it, 
have descended to such niceties as we think 
childish and insignificant: but that branch of 
Oratory which Demosthenes called the first, the 
second, and the third part of it, and which was 
so assiduously cultivated by the ancients— that> 
alas ! perished with them, and left their compo^ 
sitions like a lifeless corpse, beautiful in death, 
but deprived of all that vigour and energy 
which agitated and astonished their wondering 
auditors. We hear at this distance but a faint 
echo of that thunder in Demosthenes, which 
shook the throne of Macedon to its foundations. 



li INtRODtTCtlO^r. 

and are sometinies at a loss for that convictlofl 
in the arguments of Cicero, which balanced, in 
the mid§t of convulsions, the* tottering republic 
of Rome. , 

This part of Rhetoric^ which consists in pro- 
nunciation and action, arid which may be called 
the Soul of Oratory^ is> from its very nature, less 
capable of being communicated by writings 
and has therefore been less improved by the 
joint labours of succeeiding ages; and thus, 
while invention^" disposition,- arid elocution, in 
the ancient sense of the word, have beto cul-- 
tivated by the moderns to the highest degree 
cf perfection, Pronunciation or Delivery has 
scarcely attained a mediocrity; The import- 
ance, however, of this part of Oratof y has in- 
duced several ingenious men to gire the out* 
lines of it upon paper, and to describe, as well 
as they were able^ those variations of voice 
which the various structure and import of ^a 
sentence seemed to require** Numberless have 
been the attempts to mark to the ey^ some of 
those rnddifications of tone and inflexion which 
form»the essence of a good enxthcifationi Pauses, 
dsishes, notes of interrogation^ exclamation^ and 
^parenthesis, are but so many attempts to facili-* 
tatte thd delivery of written lahguage^ and, if 
prO'perly adapted, have undoubtedly a consi*^ 
derable us^. Nay, marking the emphatic words 
in a different character is sometimes found 
highly advantageous 5 but the most simple, the 
most marking, and the' most useful method of 
all, seems hitherto to have been entirely neg-> 
lected,-— and that is distinguishing the speaking 
voice into its two essential turns or inflexions^ 
*he rising arid the falling* Thi& neglect is the 



mtRbbuCTioN. ia 

n^ore reiit^rk^ble, as the want of some such di<>' 
stiQCtion of the voice has unquestionably been 
the occasion that so little progress has been 
ina4e in conveying the art of spea]q^g upon 
papef) 9nd teaching it by ntl^s. 
,: Almost all our writers on this subject^ aftot 
giy^t^g rules for pausing, tell us there ure cei4 
t^in tones and inflexions of voice which are of 
jpe^tich more importance to the meaning of the 
words we read than the points we make use ol^ 
liowever judiciously adapted. But here they 
generally leave jis. The Interrogation and £x<* 
clamatioA points^ indeed, are said not only to 
require suitable pause^^ but likewise an eleva*^ 
tiQQ pf voice, and the Parenthesis a moderate 
depression of it, Mr. Perry, in his English 
Grammar, has gone so far as to tell us, that the 
Interrogation, when it does not begin with the 
relatives toho, whichy or whatt or the adverbs 
^0^), where, tvhen^ &c. requires an elevation of 
voice; and an old writerj Charles Butler, of 
Magdalen College, Oxford, has, in his English 
Grammar, gone one step farther, and told us 
that this species of Interrogation not only re* 

Juires an elpvation but a different turn of voice* 
lere was a hint which one would have imagined 
Y^puld have set some grammarian at work to in-* 
^uire what this turn of voice was ; but more than a 
hundred years passed without any such inquiry ; 
till the author of th» present work, about twenty 
years ago> when he was preparing to give lessons 
at Oxford, and trying every method to gain 
some {permanent modifications of the speaking 
voicCi in order to form some certain rules for 
reading or adapting the voice to the structure 
and meaning of a sentence, he observed that 

B 2 



h INTRODUCTIOW. 

every word had necessarily either an upward of 
a downward turn, or continued in a monotone. 
This distinction he thought of such importance 
as to make him hope it might attract the notice 
of the public ; and he accordingly introduced 
it, in a work called Elements of Ehcution, but 
found no notice taken of it, till within these 
last three or four years, and then very imper- 
fectly. About ten years ago he observed that 
these two turns, the upward and the downward, 
were sometimes united on the same syllable, 
or, as it may be called, in the same explosion of 
voice, and formed a compound turn, either be- 

f inning with the upward and ending with the 
ownward, or vice versa, and these compound 
turns he called circumflexes. Here he began to 
flatter himself that he had made a discovery, 
and found means to bind that varying Proteus, 
the speaking voice ; as he <:onceived that there 
was no tortuous or zigzag turn in speaking 
which might not be reduced to one of these 
modifications, and, consequently,- that he had 
some permanent data on which to found a 
system of Rhetorical pronunciation. 

It is to the novelty and utility of this distinc- 
tion that the author claims the attention of the 
public* He has already written largely on it, 
but has still something to add. By the blessing* 
of Providence he has lived long enough to see 
the truth of his principles universally assented 
to, and, in some instances, adopted in practice. 
The utility of them he is fully persuaded of "by 
a thousand experiments; but ot this the public 
at large are undoubtedly the best judges. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 



1 HAT part of Rhetoric which relates to 
composition has been so elaborately treated 
both by the ancients and modems, that I shall 
in some measure invert the common order, and 
at first chiefly confine myself to that branch 
of it which relates to pronunciation and deli- 
very. Preparatory to which, it will be neces- 
sary to settle the pronunciation of several let* 
ters, syllables, and words, which are not only 
often mispronounced by the younger class of 
pupils, but which are frequently little under* 
stood by those who are more advanced in the 
art. Without quoting Quintilian, we may easily 
conclude, that, if these first principles of speaking 
are not distinctly and accurately learned, what-* 
ever we acquire afterward must be faulty and er* 
roneous. I shall therefore begin with settling the 
true pronunciation of those letters, syllables, 
and words, which are the most liable to be mis« 
taken by the generality of readers and speakers* 



iS 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



Observations on some of the principal 

FAULTS IN the PRONUNCIATION OF THE 
GENERALITY OF PUPILS, WITH THE METH- 
ODS OF CORRECTING THEM. 

Too slightly sounding the accented Vowels. 

One of the most general faults in reading is 
a slight, short, mincing pronunciation of the 
accented vowels. This produces a harsh,. in- 
isignificant, and trifling sound of th6 words, in- 
stead of that bold, round, mellow tone, which 
ought to be considered as the basis of speak- 
ing. The vowels which ought most to be at- 
tended to, are, the a and o. E is the slenderest 
of all the vowels, and i and u are diphthongs 
which terminate in slender sounds, and do not 
afford a sufficient quantity of sound to gratify 
. and fill the ear : but the a in all its three sounds 
in hare^ bar, and zoar s fatal, father, and water ; 
has a bold, full sound, which the ear dwells 
upon with pleasure. The sound of o likewise, 
when lengthened by e final, as in tone, or end- 
ing a syllable, as in noble, ice. may be prolonged 
with great satisfaction to the ear ;^and it is to a 
judicious prolongation of the sound of these 
vowels, that pronunciation owes one 4>f its 
greatest beauties. Words of this kind should 
therefore be selected and pronounced, first by 
the teacher, aiid afterwards by the pupil, slowly 
and distinctly. 

. ,Top, slight Ijf sounding the unaccented Voioels. 

There is an incorrect pronunciation of the 
lejtter u when it ends ^ syllable, not under the 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. i 

accent which prevails, not only among the vul* 
gar, but is sometimes found in better company ; 
and that is, giving the u an obscure sound, 
which confounds* it with vowels of a very dif- 
ferent kind. Thus we not unfrequently hear 
lingular, regulary and particular ^ pronounced as 
if written sing-^-lar, reg-e-lary ^nd par'tick-e4ar ; ^ 
but nothing tends more to tarnish and vulgarise 
the pronunciation than this short and obscure 
sound of the unaccented ti. It may, indeed, be 
observed, that there is scarcely any thing more 
distinguishes a' person of a mean from one of a 
good education than the pronunciation of the 
unaccented vowels. When vowels are under the 
accent, the prince and the lowest of the people, 
with very few exceptions, pronounce them in 
the same manner ; but the unaccented vowels, • 
in the mouth of the former, have a distinct, 
open, and specific sound, while the latter often 
totally sink them, or change them into some 
other sound. Those, therefore, who wish to 
pronounce elegantly, must be particularly at- 
tentive to the ^unaccented' vowels, as a neat 
pronunciation of these forms one of the greatest 
beauties of speaking. 

The other vowels, when unaccented, are li- 
able to nearly the same indistinctness and ob- 
scurity as the u. The first e in eventy the first o 
m opi?up7Zy and the / in sensible^ terrible^ &c. are 
apt to go into an obscure sound approaching to 
short Uy as if written uvventy uppinwij sensubblcy* 
terrubble^ &c. — while polite pronunciation, that 
is the least deliberate, requires these vowels to 
be heard nearly as distinctly, and with as much 
purity, as when under the accent. Thus the e 
\xi event should be pronounced nearly, as e iji 

B 4 






« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

equal ; the o in opinion as that in open ; the i in 
the unaccented terminations ible, ity, and at the 
end of other syllables not under the accent, 
O^ght to have the sound of e, and this sound to 
be preserved distinct and pure as if written sen^ 
s^-ble, ter-re-ble, de'Ver-se-ty, u-ne-^er^se^yy &c. 
najr> so strong a tendency has a good speaker 
to open the vowels e and o, when ending a syl* 
lable immediately before the accent, that we 
. frequently hear these vowels in the words effect^ 
efface J occasion^ offence ^ &c. pronounced as if the 
consonant were single : this is certainly a de* 
viation from rule, but it is so general among 
polite speakers, and so agreeable to the ear, as 
to be a distinguishing mark of elegant pronun- 
ciation. For the sound of unaccented a, of e 
before r, and i when it has the diphthongal 
sound like eye, see Critical Pronouncing Die-' 
tionary, in the principles prefixed, at N"** 92, 98, 
114, 115, &c. &c. 654, 

Wavering and uncertain Pronunciation of Vozoels 
under the Secondary Accent. 

The Secondary Accent is that stress we may 
pccasionally place upon another syllable, besides 
that which has the principal accent, in order to 

{>ronounce every part of the word more distinct-^ 
y, forcibly, and harmoniously. Thus this ac- 
cent is on the first syllable oi conversation^ Comr 
^Tfiendation, and the principal accent on the third. 
But from a want of attending to the analogic? 
of the language, our best orthoepists have been 
at the greatest loss for the quantity of the vowel 
under the secondary accent, when followed by 
^ single f^onsonant. This may be seen at large 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. ^ 

in Principles prefixed to the Critical Pronounc- 
ing Dictionary, N^ 530, &c. It will be only 
necessary to observe here, that those polysylla- 
bles which have the principal accent on the 
third syllable, whether we place a secondary 
accent on first syllabic or not, have every vowel, 
except M in that syllable, invariably short, unless 
an inverted diphthong succeed. Thus the o in 
the first syllable of proposition^ provocation^ pro- 
fanation, the a in the first of lamentation^ the < 
in demonstration, and the i in the first of diminii- 
tion, are all short : but if an inverted diphthong 
succeed the first syllable, every vowel except i 
retains its open sound, as amiability ^ deviation^ 
Jilialiony spoliation, dubiosity, &c. Where it may 
be observed that the u is always pronounced 
long and open, though under the secondary ac* 
cent, as lucubrationj accumulation, &c. 

There is the greater necessity for the obscrva* 
tion of this rule, as it tends to give a firmness and 
decision to ^ part of pronunciation which is 
very loosely and variously marked in most of 
pur pronouncing dictionaries. A vague idea of 
the propriety of preserving the simple in the 
cqmppund, and of distinguishing the insepara- 
ble preposition from the rest of the word, makes 
^lany, who are but superficially acquainted with 
the analogies of the language, willing to show 
their precision by pronouncmg the o in proposi- 
tion as open as that in propose, and the e in pre* 
paration like that in prepare-, but a larger view 
of the language would have shown these critics, 
this would be to overturn the most settled ana* 
logics of pronunciation. If we attend to those 
. sounds which the English ear has almost uni- 
versally received and acknowledged, we shall 



10 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR; 

find the result to be this general ruk. When a 
penultimate vowel, with the accent upon it, 
ends a syllable, before a single consonant, that 
vowel is long and open, ^% papery decenty silence^ 
localy lucidy Stc^— but when any antepenultimate 
vowel, except m, is under the same predicament, 
it is short, as fabuhuSy delicate j diligence^ provi- 
dence, hiculeni. This genuine analogy of Eng- 
lish pronunciation has been crossed and coun- 
tefacted by an affectation of reducing our quan- 
tity to that of the Latin ; but, though this pe- 
dantry has prevailed in words of two syllables, 
where, to the great injury of the sound of our 
language, it has reduced long vowels to short 
ones, it has made a little alteration in polysyl- 
lables, where we find the antepenultimate, or 
preantepenultimate, accent still preserves its 
shortening power, notwithstanding the attempts 
of some speakers to pronounce the first e in fe- 
gislahire^ and the first o in p^opositiony long. 
An Englishman, therefore,, who ^shes to fol- 
low that path which nature (or, which is nearly 
the same, unpremeditated custom) has chsillced 
out, will, as far as polite usage will permit him, 
pronounce the penultimate vowel long and 
2pen, and the Antepenultimate short and shut. 
Thus a proper mixture of long and short vowels 
will be preserved, and the ear be indulged in 
that vernacular propensity which nature seems 
to have given it. 

See this explained at large in Principles of 
English Pronunciation, prefixed to the Critical 
Pronouncing Dictionary, N°* 544, 545, &c. and 
Key to the Classical Pronunciation of Greek and 
Latin Proper Names, Appendix, N® 20, 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 11 



Liquid Sound of K, C, or G hardy bef(yti the 

Vowds A and I. 

There is a fluent liquid sound of these conso- 
Hants before the two vowels a and /, which 
gives a smooth and elegant sound to the words 
in which they occur, and which distinguishes 
the polite pronunciation of London from -that 
of every other part of thfc island. Tliis pnK 
nunciation is nearly as if the a and i were pre- 
ceded by e. Thus, kind is sounded as if writ- 
ten ke-ind; card^ as ke-ard; and regard, as 
rege-ard. When these vowels are pronounced 
55hort, as in cabbage, gander, kindle, &c. the in- 
terposition of the sound of e is very perceptible, 
and indeed unavoidable ; for though we can 
pronounce guard, cart, and kind, without in* 
terposing the e, we cannot pronounce cannage^ 
garrison^ and kindred, in the same manner. Tlie 
words that require this liquid sound in die k^ r, 
and g hard, are but few. Sky, kind, guide^ 
gird, girt, girl, guise, guile, card, cart, carp, ca^ 
penter, carpdt, carve, carbuncle, carnal, cartridge^, 
guard, and regard; — these and Iheir compounds 
are perhaps the only words where this sound 
occurs ; but these words are so much in use as 
to be sufficient to mark a speaker as either coarse 
or elegant, as he adopts or tteglects it. 

This sound is taken notice of by Steele in his 
English Grammar, p. 49, so long ago as the 
reign of queen Anne ; but he ascribes it to the 
consonant's being followed by ia palative vowel. 



€9 

€( 

€f 



1% RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

as he calls the a in can, the e in get, and the i 
in begin, which he says ** are sounded as if 
wntten q/an, gyet, begyin, &c. because the 
tongue can scarce pass from these guttural 
consonants to form the palative vowels, but 
it must pronounce y ; but it is not so before 
the other vowels, as in call, ^all, go, gun, 
'^ goose, come, &c." This observation of Steele's 
goes no farther than to such words as cannot 
possibly be pronounced without the intervention 
of the e or y sound j but to this it may be add- 
ed, that though such words as have the long 
sound of the a in father, or the same long 
sound .heard before r final, or followed by an- 
other consonant in the same syllable, as car, 
card, regard; or such words as have the long /, 
or the short i followed by r, as Jcirk, gird, girls 
—I say, though these words may be pronounced 
without the intervention of e or y, yet with it 
they are not onlv more mellow and fluent, but 
infinitely nxore elegant and fashionable. 

At first sight we are surprised that two such dif- 
jFerent letters as a and i should be affected in the 
same manner by the hard gutturals, g, c, and k y 
but when we reflect that i is really composed of 
a and e, our surprise ceases ; and we are pleased 
to find the ear perfectly uniform in its procedure, 
and entit'ely unbiassed by the eye. From this 
view of the analog, we may see how much mis- 
taken is a very solid and ingenious writer on this 
subject, who says that ^^ ky4nd for kind is a 
^* monster of pronunciation, heard only on our 
stage/* Nare*s Orthoepy, p. 28. See Criti- . 
caj Pronouncing Dictionary, under the word 
Guilt. 
' r 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. is 



The liquid Sound of Ty 2), S, and soft C, after 
the. Accent, and before the semi-consonant Diph- 
thongs. 

Nothing can be better established in the ge- 
nuine pronunciation of our language than flie 
liquid sibilation of these consonants^ when the 
accent comes after them, and the inverted diph* 
thongs succeed. This is evident in the nume- 
rous terminations in tion, sion, don;, and if we 
had words ending in dion, it is not to be doubt- 
ed but that they would flow into the same cur- 
rent of sound. ' 

The general ear, true to analogy, melts these 
consonants into the soft hiss before the long u; 
for thou|fh apparently a single letter, it is com- 
posed or e 00, or rather y oo, and is therefore 
no( only not a pure vowel, but a semi-consonant 
diphthong, exactly in sound like the pronoun 
you. Hence we hear polite speakers always 
pronounce educate, as if written edjucdte; vir- 
tue as verchetv; verdure as verjure: and if the 
general ear were not coimipted by being cor- 
rected, we should in the same analogy hear In- 
dian pronounced Injian j odious, ojeous; and ?n- 
sidious, insidjeous. In this pronunciation of these 
words, the speaker has always the strongest 
analogy on his side; but he ought to avoid sink- 
ing the i, and reducing the Indian into two syl- 
lables, as if written In-jan; odious as o-jus; and 
insiduous as insid-Jus. The i ought to be heard 
distinctly, like e in these words, as if written and 
divided into Lc^je-an, o-je-us, insid-je-ous, &c. 

For want of attending to this evident analogy, 
th^re are few English words more frequently 



H RHETORICAL GRAMMAlt- 

mispronounced than the word pronunciation. A 
mere English acholar, who considers the word to 
pronounce as the root of it, .cannot easify con-^ 
ceive why the o is thrown out of the second syl- 
lable ; and therefore, to correct the mistake^ 
sound3 the word as if written pronounciationi, 
Thosfi vho are sufficiently learned to escape 
this er?Qr, by understanding that the word 
comes to us either from the Latin pronuiiciatio^ 
or the French pronundatioUj are very apt to fall 
into another, by sinl^ing the first aspiration, and 
pfonouncing the third syllable like the noun sea: 
But these speakers ought to take notice, that^ 
throughout the whole language, c, s, and t,y proc- 
eeded by the accent, either primary or second- 
ary, and followed by e^z, ia, ioj or any similar 
diphthong, always become aspirated, and are 
pronounced as if written she. Thus the very- 
same reasons that oblige us to pronounce par-^ 
tialityy propitiation, especially, &c. as if written 
parshealiti/y propiskeation, espesheally, 8sc. ob- 
lige us to pronounce pronunciation as if written 
pronunsheashun. See Principles, prefixed to the 
Critical Pronouncing Dictionary, N°* 357, 450^ 
461, and the word Ecclesiastick* We may 
conclude' by observing that this liquid sound of 
these letters is no fanciful departure itova true 
orthography, but is the genuine and sponta- 
neous production of the national ear ; and as it 
tends to give a mellow flow of sound to a con- 
siderable part of the language, it should cer- 
tainly not be discouraged. 

In this word, and some of the other exam-^. 
pies, it may be noted that the .; . condary accent 
operates on these letters exactly in the sam^ 
manner a^ the primary : and that as the second-^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAIL IS 

iitj accent is before the c/a, it makes it she^^if 
as xnjich as the primaiy before tian makes it 

Suppressing the Sound of the^nat Comonants. 

One great cause of indistinctness in reading 
is sinking, the sound of some of the final con^ 
sonants, when they are followed by the word^ 
beginning with vowels, and of some when the 
next word begins with a consonant. Thus the 
, word and is frequently pronounced like the ar- 
ticle any both before a vowel and a consonant^ 
as. Both men and money are ivanting to carry on 
the wars where we hear this sentence as if writ- 
ten. Both men an money are wanting to carry on 
Ihe war. The suppression of d in this case is, 
lv>wever, much .more tolerable than when it is 
followed by a vowel, and particularly the vowel 
a, followed by n; for in this position there is 
hot only a disagreeable repetition of the same 
sound, but, in some measure, a confusion in the 
3ense. Thus we often hear that A subject is car- 
ried on by question and answer , as if written, The 
subject is carried on by question an answer: and, 
He made his meal of an apple and an egg^ as if 
Written, lie made his meal of an apple an an fggt 
So that it ought to be made a general rule al- 
ways to pronounce the d in and, when a voyvel 
begins the next word, and particularly when 
that word begins with a?z* 

The sound ofy, when final, is liable to th.^ 
same suppression when a consonant begins^ th^ 
succeeding word, and particularly the th. No- 
thing is more common than to hear The ivant qf 
men is occasioned by the want of money ^ iV^^T 



16 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR'. 

Dounced, the tmnt o^ men is occasioned by the 
want o' money : and, / spoke of the man*zvho told 
me of the woman you mentioned^ as if written, 
/ spoke 6" the man who told me o' the woman you 
tneutioned. 

It may, however, be observed ia mitigation 
of this, that where there is no pause between 
words, the last consonant of one word, and the 
first of another word, are very apt to coalesce, 
like double consonants, which are really double 
only to the eye ; but when there is a perceptible 
pause at the end of a sentence, or member of a 
sentence, the final consonant ought then to be 
pronounced distinctly; and instead of letting 
the organs remain on the last letter till the sound 
dies, they ought to be smartly separated by 
sounding what the French call the mute e after 
the final consonant. All the mute consonants 
are liable to this imperfect pronunciation, but it 
is in none mote perceptible than in words end* 
ing with t or dy especially if preceded by an- 
other consonant. Thus if I say, / took dozvfi my 
hat, but before I had put it on my head, Mr, 
Johnson came into the room, and let the tongue 
remain on the palate on the t and rf, at the end 
of the words hat and head, they want much of 
that articulation they would have if the tongue 
were smartly separated by a rebound, as it were, 
from the palate, and the mute e pronounced 
after them somewhat as if spelled in this man- 
ner : / took down rny hat-te^ but before I had put 
it .an my head-de^ Mr. Johnson came into the 
Toonn. 

The same want of articulation may be per- 
ceived in the following sentence, if the tongue 
bf suffered to remain too long on the palate on 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAJL 11 

|)ie coBSonailts at the end of the words in ihe 
following sentence : He received the whale of the 
irenty before he parted with the land. And the 
superior distinctness of pronouncing it with 
the t and d^ finished bv a smart separatidn of 
the organs, and somewnai as if written, H^ fe- 
ceive-ae the whole of the ren-te^ btfore he parte- 
de with the lan-de. The judicious reader Will 
observe that this rule must be followed with dis- 
cretion, and that the £nal consonant must not 
be so pronounced as to form a distinct syllable ; 
this would be to commit a greater error than 
that which it was intended to prevent : but as it 
may with confidence be asserted, that audibility 
depends chiefly on articulation, so it may be af- 
firmed that a^iculation depends much on the 
distinctness . with which we hear the final 
consonants ; and trifling therefore as these ob- 
servations may appear at first sight,-i^when we 
consider the importance of audibility, we shall 
not think any thing that conduces to such an 
object below our notice. 

The rough and smooth sound t>f R. 

Scarcely any letter is more difficult to pro^ 
Bounce with propriety than the r. What forms 
great part of the peculiarity of the Irish accent, 
as it is called^ is the rough and harsh pronun- 
ciation of this letter; and the soft^ smooth, or 
rather inarticulate sound of it, marks a striking 
singularity of what is called the cockney pro- 
nunciation^ or the pronunciation of the common 
people of Lopdon ; so that the true sound of 
this letter seems to lie in the medium between 
these extremes. 



ii Rhetorical csiammar. 

But first it will be necessary to observe, what 
I have never found noticed by any of our or- 
thoepists, that as the Greek and some other 
languages have a rough and a smooth, or a harsh 
and a soft r, so has the English, and that each 
of these are proper in certain situations. The 
rough r is formed by jarring the tip of the 
tongue against the roof of the mouth, near the 
fore-teeth ; the smooth r is a vibration of the 
lower part of the tongue, near the root, against 
the inward region of the palate, as close to 
each other as possible, without coming into 
contact. The first r is proper at the beginning 
of words, and the second at the end of words, 
or when succeeded by a consonant. In Eng- 
land, aEtd particularly in London, the r in bar^ 
bardy curd, regard, &c. is pronounced so much 
in the throat as to be little more than the middle 
or Italian a, heard in father, as if written baa; 
haad, caad, regaadj while in Ireland the r^in these 
words, is pronounced with so strong a jar of the 
tongue against the fore-part of ^he palate, and ac- 
companied with such an aspiration or strong 
breathing at the beginning of the letter, as to pro- 
duce that harshness we call the Irish accent. But 
if this letter is too forcibly pronounced in Ireland, 
it is often too feebly sounded in England, and 
particularly in London, where it is sometimes 
entirely sunk ; and it may, perhaps, be worthy 
of observation, that, provided we avoid a toG^ 
forcible pronunciation of the r, when it ends a 
word) or is followed by a consonant in the same 
syllable, we may give as much force as we 
ple^e to this letter at the beginning of a word, 
without producmg. any harshness to the ear. 
Thus, Mome,^ river,^ rage, may li^ve the r as 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 19 

forcible as in Ireland j but bar, bard, card, regard, 
&c. must havb it nearly as soft as in London. 
This letter, therefore, forms an exception to thd 
foregoing rule. 

Hissing too much the Terminations tion^ sion^ 

&c. 

There is a vicious manner of pronouncing 
these terminations by giving them a sharp hiss, 
which crushes the consonants together, and to- 
tally excludes the vowels, as if the words na- 
tion, occasion, 8cc. were written na-shn, oCca-zhn, 
&c. As words of these terminations are very 
numerous in the language, any improper mode 
of sounding them must .tarnish the wnole pro- 
nunciation, and therefore ought to be most 
carefully guarded against* These terminations, 
therefore, ought to be pronounced as distinctly 
as if written nashun, occazhun, &c. The diph- 
thong io, for want of the accent, is sunk intp 
that sound which is annexed to the o in the last 
syllable of honour, favour, terror, &c. which 
can be classed with nothing so much related to 
it as short u. 

Pronouncing s indistinctljf after st. 

The letter s after st, from the very difficulty of 
Its pronunciation, is often sounfled inarticulately. 
The inhabitants of London, of the lower order, 
cut the knot, and pronounce it in a distinct syl- 
lable, as if e were before it ; but this is to be 
avoided as the greatest blemish in speaking : 
the three last letters in posts, .fists, mists, &c. 
n^st all be distinctly heard in one syllable, and 

c 2 



30 Rhetorical GRAMMAR. 

without either permitting the letters to coalesce 
as if written /K?^^,,;?2V^, miss, &c. or suffering the 
ts tg make a distinct syllable like the vulgar of 
London, as if written pos-'tes;fis-teSj mis-tes, &e* 
but letting the t be heard, however feebly, yet 
distinctly between the two hissing letters. For 
the acquiring of this sound, it will be proper to 
select nouns that end in st of ste; to form them 
into plurals, and pronounce them forcibly and 
distinctly every day. The same may be obser- 
ved of the third person of verbs ending in stsox 
stesp as persists^ wastes, pastes, &c. 

Pronouncing wfor v> and inversely. 

The pronunciation of v for a;, and more fre- 
quently oiw for V, amoiig the inhabitants of Lon- 
don, and those not always of the lower order, is 
a blemish of the first magnitude. The difBculty 
of remedying this defect is the greater, as the 
cure of one of these mistakes has a tendency to 
promote the other. 

Thus, if you are very careful to make a pupil 
pronounce veal and vinegary not as if written 
weal and winegary you wiU find him very apt to 
pronounce wiite and wind, as if written vine and 
vind. The only method of rectifying this habit 
seems to be this. Let the pupil select from a 
dictionary, not only all the words that begia 
with V, but as many as he can of those that have 
this letter in any other part. Let him be told to 
bite his under lip while he is sounding the v in 
those words, and to practise this every day till he 
pronounces the v properly at first sight : then,, 
and not till then, let him pursue the same meth* 
od with the zv -, which he must be directed to 
jpronounce by a pouting out of the lips without 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 21 

suiSering them to touch the teeth. Thus, by giv- 
ing all the attention to only one of these letters 
at a time, and fixing by habit the true sound of 
that, we shall at last find both of them reduced 
to their proper pronunciation, in a shorter time 
than by endeav.ouring to rectify them both at 
once. 

Not sounding h after w. 

The aspirate h is often sunk, particularly in 
the capital, where we do not find the least di- 
stinction of sound between while and wilej whet 
and wet, ivhere and wej^e, &c. Trifling as this 
diflference may appear at first sight, it tends 
greatly to weaken and impoverish the pronunci- 
ation, as well as sometimes to confound words 
of a very different meaning. The best method 
to rectify this, is, to collect all the words of this 
description from a dictionary, and write them 
down ; and instead of the zvh to begin them with 
hoo in a distinct syllable, and so to pronounce 
them . Thus let zvhile be written and sounded 
hoo-ile; whet, hoo-et; where, hoo-are; whip, hoo-ips 
&c. **i»'his is no more, as Dr. Lowth observes, 
than placing the aspirate in its true position, be- 
fore the «;, as it is in the Saxon, which the words 
come firom ; where we may observe, that, though 
we have altered the orthography of our ancestors, 
we have still preserved their pronunciation. 

Kot sounding h where it ought to be sounded, and 

inversely. 

A STILL worse habit than the last prevails, 
chiefly among the peop^le of London, that of 
^ijqng the h at the beginning of words wheye 

c 3 



S9 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

it ought to be sounded, and of sounding it, either 
where it is not seen, or where it ought to be 
sunk. Thus we not unfrequently hear, especial^ 
]y among children, heart pronounced art, and 
arm, harm. This is a vice perfectly similar to 
that of pronouncing the v for the tOy and the w for 
the V, and requires a similar method to correct it; 
As there are but so very few words in the lan- 
guage where the initial h is sunk, we may select 
these from the rest ; and, without setting the pu- 
pil right when he mispronounces these, or when 
he prefixes the h improperly to other words, we 
may make him pronounce all the words where h 
is sounded, till he has almost forgot there are any 
words pronounced otherwise. Then he may go 
over tnose words to which he improperly pre- 
fixes the ky and those where the h is seen but not 
sounded, without any danger of an interchange. 
As these latter words are but few, I shall subjoin 
a catalogue of them for the use of the learner. 
Heir, heiressy herb, herbagey honest, honesty, ho- 
nestlt/y honory honorable, honorably y hospitaly host;' 
fer, houry hourly y humblcy humbly, humbles, Am- 
mour, humorist, humorouSy humprously, hummir- 
some. Where we may observe that humour and 
its compounds not only sink the A, but sound 
the u like the pronoun yoUy or the noun yeiVy z,% 
if written yewmour, yeivmorous, &c. 

Siippressing e zvhere it should be pronowiced, and 
pronouncing it zvhere it should be suppressed* 

The vowel e before / and n in a final unac- 
cented syllable, by its being sometimes sup- 
.^ pressed and sometimes not, forms one of the most 

♦• puzzling difficulties in teaching young people to 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. S3 

read. . When any of the liquids precede these 
letters, the e is heard distinctly, as woollen, Jlan-- 
nel, toomen, syren s but when any of the other 
consonants come before these letters, the e is 
sometimes heard, as in fwvel, sudden : and some- 
times not, as in swivel, sadden, &c. As no other 
rule can be given for this variety of pronuncia- 
tion, perhaps the best way will be to draw the 
line between those words where e is pronounced, 
and those where it is not ; and this, by the help 
of the Rhyming Dictionary, I am easily enabled 
to do. In the first place, then, it may be ob* 
served, that e before /, in a final unaccented syl* 
lable, must always be pronounced distinctly, ex* 
cept in the following words : shekel, weasel, 
ousel, nousel (better written nuzzle J^ navel, ravel, 
snivel, rivel, drivel, shrivel, shovel, grovel, hazel, 
drazel, nozel. These words are pronounced as 
if the e were omitted by an apostrophe, as shek'l, 
weazH, ousH, &c. or rather as if written, sheckle, 
weazle, ouzle, &c. — ^but as these are the only 
words of this termination that are so pronounced, 
great care must be taken that children do not 
pronounce travel, gravel, rebel (the substantive), 
parcel, chapel, and vessel, in the same manner ; 
a fault to which they are very liable. 

E before n, in a final unaccented syllable, and 
not preceded by a liquid, must always be sup* 
pressed, except in the following words : sudden, 
mynchen, kitchen, hyphen, chicken, ticken (better 
written ticking J, jer ken, aspen, platen, paten, mar^- 
ten, latten, patten, leaven or leven, sloven. In 
these words the e is heard distinctly, contrary to 
the general rule which suppresses the e in these 
syllables, when preceded by a mute, as harden, 
heathen, heaven, as if written harden, HeatKn, 

c 4 



24 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 

hecw^Tij &c. nay even when preceded by a liquid Iri 
the vfoxAs fallen and stolen^ where the e is sup- 
pressed, as if they- were written/a/f n and stoVn > 
garden and btirden, therefore, are very analogic' 
cally pronounced garcFn and burden, and this pro- 
nvinciation ought the rather to be indulged, as 
we always hear the e suppressed in gardener and 
burd^nsomey as if written gardener and burden- 
some. 

This diversity in the pronunciation of these 
terminations ought the more carefully to be at- 
tended to, as nothing is so vulgar and childish 
as to hear szoivel and heaoen pronounced with the 
e distinctly, or novel and chicken with the e sup- 
pressed. To these observations we may add, 
that though evil and devil suppress the /, as if 
written ev*l and dev'l, yet that cavil and pencil 
preserve the sound of i distinctly ; and that latin 
0ught never to be pronounced, as it is generally 
fit schools, as if written lat'n. 



BHETORICAL GRAMMAR. fij 



OBSERVATIONS ON. THE PRONUNCIATION OF 
CERTAIN WORDS MOST fREQUENTLY MIS-^ 
TAKEN IN READJNGt 



The true Sound of the Auxiliary Verbs; also when, 
od makes an additional Syllable , andivlien not. 

The auxiliary verbs shall j would, could^ should^ 
are, and have, should never be pronounced showily 
xQold, cold, shold, air, and haive, but shal, wood, ' 
cood, shood, arr, and haw*. 

The participial termination ed must never be 
pronounced as a distinct syllable, unless preceded 
by d or t, except in the language of Scripture. 
One distinction indeed seems to have obtained 
between some adjectives and participles, which 
IS, pronouncing die ed in an additional syllable 
in the former, and of sinking it in the latter. 
Thus when learned, cursed, blessed, and winged, 
are adjectives, the ed is invariably pronounced 
as a distinct syllable ; but when participles, as 
learned, curs' d, bless' d, and wing'd, the ed does 
not form. an additional syllable. Poetry, how^- 
ever, assuipes the privilege of using these ad» 

* Thp auxilif^ry verbs are ^s irregular in their pronuncia- 
tion as in their form ; and recur so often ip forming the moods 
and tenses of other verbs, that too great care cannot be takeii 
to prpQQunce thepi exs^ptly right* For this purpose it would 
be a useful exercise to fiiake the pupir frequently conjugate 
the two auxiliary verbs art and ]wnit tlirou^h all their moods 
^nd tenses ; takmg particular care that art is pronounced like 
the first syllable m ar^dsnt; havf with the a short as in the first 
pliable pf tav-ern ; and shall^ ex^tly s^ th^ first syllabk q£ 
shal-low. 



2« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

jectives either way, but correct prose rigidly 
exacts the pronunciation of ed in these words 
when adjectives, as a distinct syllable. The ed 
in aged always makes a distinct syllable, as an 
aged man ; but when this word is compounded 
with another, the ed does not form a syllable, as 
a fnll'ag'd horse. 

It is perhaps worthy of notice, that when adjec- 
tives are changed into adverbs, by the addition 
of the termination, /y, we often find the participal 
cd preserved long and distinct ; even in those 
yery words where it was contracted when used 
adjectively. Thus, though we always hear con^ 
fess'dy projfess^dy designed; & c . we as consta^ntly hear 
tanifess-ed'ly y pro-fess-ed-hf y de-stgn-ed-ly, &c/ 
The same may be observed of the following list 
of words, which, by the assistance of the Rhym- 
ing Dictionary, I am enabled to give, as the only 
words in the language in which the ed is pro- 
nounced' as a distinct syllable in the adverb, 
where it contracted in the participal adjective. 
Forcedly y-enforcedbfy utmeiledly ydef&rmedly yfeign^ 
tdhfy unfeignedhfy designedly , resignedly ^ restrain- 
tdbfy rejinediyy unconcernedly y undiscemedly y pre* 
paredhfy assuredly y advisedly y composedly y disperse 
€dly, dipjcsedlyy co7ifusedlyy unperceivedJy y resol- 
vedly, desefrvedlyy undeservedly y reservedly y unre-- 
servedlyy avowedly y perplexedly y^xedly^ amazedly^ 
forkedly. 

When you is ta be pronounced Uke ye 5 and my 

like me, fee. 

Another very common error in reading arises 
from pronouncing the personal pronoun you in 
thb" same manner, whether it is in the nomiaaf 



KHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 27 

tive or the obliq^ue case ; or, in other words, whe* 
ther it is the principal or the subordinate word 
in a sentence. It is certain that the prohoi^iii. 
you and viy, when they are contra-distinguUhed 
from other pronouns, and consequently emphatic 
cal, are always pronounced with their full open 
sound, youy my. But it is as certain^ if we o\h 
serve the pronunciation of correct conversation, 
that we shall find them sounded j^e and me, whe^ 
they are subordinate words in a sentence^ and 
have no emphasis on them. For example ; You 
told him all the truth. Here the word yoit is a 
nominative case, that is, it goes before the word 
denoting action, and must therefore be pror 
nounced full and open, so as to rhyme with new» 
In this sentence also. He told Yoi? before he toU 
any body else ; the word you is in the oblique 
case, or comes after the word denoting action, 
but as it is emphaticalby being contra-distinguish* 
ed from any body else, it preserves its full open 
sound as before. But in the sentence, TTumgi 
he told you, he had no right to tell you^-^hcxc the 
pronoun you is in the oblique case, or follows 
the word denoting action, and, having no dis- 
tinctive emphasis, invariably falls into tne sound 
of the antiquated form of this pronoun, ^e; and 
as if written. Though he told ye, he had no right 
to tell ye*. 

* Perhaps it was this pronunciation of the pronoimj^ou, when 
in the oblique case, which induced Shakspeare and Mikot 
sometimes to write it^e: though^ as Dr. Lowth observes, verj 
ungrammatically. 

The more shame for ^^ holy men I thought ^f. 

Henry VIIL 
His wiath which one day will destroy yt both. 

Milton, Par. Los|. b. ii. L 7 3f 



28 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

The same observations hold good with respect 
to the pronoun my. If we were to say. My pen 
is as bad as my paper, we should necessarily pro- 
nounce my like me, as, in this sentence, pen and 
paper are the emphatical words ; but if I were 
to s^. My pen is worse than your^Sy here my is in 
antithesis with your^s, and consequently must be 
pronounced long and full, so as to rhyme with 
highynighy 9zc. 

The word your is exactly under the same pre- 
dicament. When the emphasis h upon this 
word, it is always pronounced full and open, ex- 
actly like the substantive etoer s as, TTie moment 
I had read Your letter I sat dozvn to zvrite Mine : 
but, when it is not emphatical, it sinks natural- 
ly into yur s exactly like the last syllable of 
JUno-yery as, / had just answered ywr first letter as 
yur last arrived. On the contrary, if it were to 
be said, / had just answered Your first letter as 
Your last arrived, with your sounded like ewery 
as in the former sentence^ every delicate ear 
would be offended. A few examples may serve 
to illustrate these observations still farther, 

" Ypur pfiper is a part of my tea-equipage ; 

'♦ ^nd my servant knows my humour so well, 
that calling for rpy breakfast this morning, {it 
being past my usual hour) she answered, the 

^* Spectator was not yet come in." Spect. N° 92, 

' . In this example we find every my bqt the last 
may be pronounced so a3 to rhyme with high, and 
It would intimate the singularity of the tea-equi^ 
page, the servant and the humour, as opposed 
to, or distinguished from those who have no such 
tea-equipage, servant, or humour: but breakfast, 
Jiavrng no such shigularity or opposition of 



cc 



i " 

I 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. ii 

meaning to other breakfasts, cannot have my be- 
fore it pronounced like high without being ab- 
surd. * Not that the sense necessarily requires 
the fiili sound of my before the former words, 
but admits of it only; nay, the repetition of 
their sound being disagreeable Xo the ear, ^d 
the sense not demanding it, perhaps the best 
mode of reading this passage would be to confine 
the full sound of my to that which precedes the 
word humour. Your^ at the beginning of the 
sentence, requires the full sound rhyming with 
pure\ as it distinguishes the Spectator from 
either papers, but in the following part of the 
same letter: 

** Having thus, in part, signified the esteem 
*' and veneration which I have for you, I must 

put you in mind of the catalogue of books 

which you have promised to recommend to 
*^ our sex ; for 1 have deferred furnishing my 
•* closet with authors, till I receive your advice 

in this particular, being your daily disciple, and 
** humble servant, " Leonora.'* 



€1 



However we may pronounce xht word your 
preceding the word advice, the last your must 
necessarily be pronounced short like yur. This 
sound of the possessive pronoun your ahyays 
takes place where it is used to signify any par- 
ticular species of persons or things. Thus Ad- 
dison, speaking or the metaphors which profes- 
sional men most commonly fall into,, says, 
" Your men of business usually have recourse to 
** such instances as are too jnean and familiar/' 
Spect. N^ 421.— And Cleopatra, in All for I^ve> 
jpeaking of the Roman poets, says,. 



90 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



Mere poetry^ 



Your Romah wits, your Gallns and TibcdluSA 
Have taught ye thb from Cytheris and Delia. 

Drydek. 



W7ien of, for, from, and hy^ are to have a longy and 

ivhen a short sound. 

A DISTINCTION similar to those we hav6 been 
observing seems to have taken place in the pro- 
nunciation of the preposition of. The consonant 
of this word is almost invariably {)ronounced 
like the consonant v ; and when the word does 
not come before some of the pronouns at the 
end of a sentence, or member of a sentence, we 
sometimes suffer the voivel o to slide into the 
sound of the vowel ti 5 and the word may be said 
to rhyme with love^ dove, &c. Thus, in the well- 
known couplet in the tragedy of the Fair Pe- 
nitent, 

Of all the various wretches Love has made, 
l^Qvt few we find by men of sense betrayed ! 

The two ofs in this couplet we find, may, with- 
out any very palpable departure from propriety, 
be pronounced as if written uv ; rhyming with 
<&ir,&:c,— but. when the word zY, AeVw, Aer, themy 
or any other personal pronoun follows ofy either 
in ^he middle or at the end of a sentence, the 
word of mnst then be pronounced as when heard 
Aingly^ rhyming with the first syllable of noV'-el^ 
hoxheL Thus every ear will readily perceive the 
impropriety of reciting the following sentence in 
this manner,— H^e never know the true value %iv 
time Hillzve are deprived uv it s and the superior 
propriety, as well as harmony erf this manner,--* 



f . 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. SI 

We 7tever know the true value uv time *iill we are 
deprived ov it. 

The same observations hold good with re- 
spect to the words/ram, bj/,for, and every word 
that in certain positions may admit of a less dis- 
tinct and emphatical sound : for we may allow- 
ably pronounce from as if written /rMTTi in the 
sentence, / delivered him from the danger he 
was in; but we must alwavs pronounce it nearly 
as if written/rai/m in such sentences as the fol« 
lowing: / came fkom him s I delivered him 

FRdM //• 

The word by is liable also to a double sound 
in different situations ; that is, sometimes^ like 
the verb be, and sometimes like buy. Thus we 
may say either. He died by (be) his otvn hands : 
or. He died by (buy) his oivn hands: but we must 
necessarily pronounce it (buy) when it comes 
before the word it, him, or any similar word at 
the end of a sentence ; as whatever was the wea^ 
pon, he died by (buy) it. 

In the same manner we may say, / zorote to a 
friend for (fur) his advice : but we must invari- 
ably say. He tvould not give me his advice though 
J xvrote for (four) it. In these instances we 
plainly perceive that there is something left to 
taste, and something established by custom. But 
notwithstanding the little hold we have of these 
fleeting sounds, that convey to us these less im? 
portant parts of a sentence, we have still suffici* 
ent perception of them for establishing this ge- 
neral rule. When these signs of cases, offrom^ 
by i for, are in the middle of a sentence, they are 
sometimes liable to a double sound ; but when 
at the end of a sentence, or members of a sen- 
tence, and succeeded by //, him^ her, or them^ 



Si RHETORICAL GRAMMAR.' 

they are inynriably pronotinced as when heafd 
singly of, from, hy,for, &g. 

tiom td pronounce ike Possessive Pronoiin Thy. 

From what has been already observed of the 
pronoun my, we are naturally led to suppose, 
that the word thy, when not emphatical, ought 
to follow the same analogy, and be pronounced 
like the, as we frequently hear it on the stage 2 
but if we reflect that reading or reciting is a per- 
fect picture of speaking, we shall be induced to 
think that in this particular the stage is some- 
times wrong. The second personal pronoun 
thy is not like my, the common language of 
every subject; it is used only where the sub-' 
ject is either raised above common life, or sunk 
below it into the mean and familiar. When the* 
subject is elevated above common life, it adopts 
a language suitable to such an elevation, and . 
the pronunciation of this language ought to be 
as far removed from the familiar as the language 
itself. Thus, in prayer, pronouncing thy like 
the^ even when unempbatical, would be intole- 
rable : while suffering thy, when Unempbatical,- 
to slide into the in the pronunciation of slight 
and familiar composition, seems to lower the* 
sound to the language, and form a proper di- 
stinction between different subjects. If there- 
fore it should be asked, why, in reciting epic 
or tragic composition, we ought always to pro- 
nounce thy rhyming with high, while my, when 
unempbatical, sinks into the sound oime, it may 
be answered, because my is the common Ian-' 
guage of every subject, while thy is confined to 
subjects either elevated above common life, or 



JlttETORtCAL GRAMMAR. 3S 

iunk below it into the endearing and faniilkr. 
\VTien, therefore, the language is elevated, the 
liiicommonhess of the Wox'd th^y and its full 
tound rhyming with high^ is suitable to the dig* 
nity of the subject : but the slender sound like 
the gives it a familiarity, only suitable to the lan- 
guage of endearment or negliffence, and for this 
very reason is unfit for the dignity of epic or 
tragic composition; Thus in the following pas* 
sage from Milton x 

Say first, for heaven hides nothing fiom thy view. 

Nor the deep tract of hell ■ 

Parad. Lost, b. L 

« 

O thou, that, with surpassing glory crown'd, 
Look'st from thy sole dominion, lilce the God 
Of this new world ; at whose sight, all the stars 
* Hide their diminished heads \ to thee I call. 
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 
P son, to tell thee how 1 hate thy beams. 

Pkrad. Lost, b. 4. 

. Here pronouncing the pronoun thy^ like the 
word the^ wpuld familiarise and debase the lan- 

Suare to prose. The same may be observed o£ 
le following passage from the Tragedy o^Cato ; 

Now, Caesar, let thy troops beset onr gates. 
And bar each avenue ; thy gathering fleets 
Cerspread the sea, and stop up ev^ry port | 
Cato shall open to himself a passage. 
And mock thy hopes. ■■ 

Here the impropriety of pronpuning thy like 
the is palpable : nor would it be much more ex- 
cusable in the following speech of Fortius, in 
the first scene of the same tragedy. 

Thou teest not thai thy brother is thy rival ; 
But I must hide it, for I know thy temper. 
Now, Marcus, now thy virtue's on^tiK pro<rf'| 

P 



» IIHETORICAL GllAMMARv 

Pat forth ^y vLicao^t stij^th^ work ev'rj nerye. 
And call up all thy father in thy soul. , 

As this proQ^ua is generally pronouiHx4 oil 
the st^gc^ it would be difficult for the ear pi 
distinguish whether the words are 

Ttjoti know'st not that thy brother is thy rival — or 
Thoju know'st not that ike brother is the rivals SfV. 

and this may be one re^sor^ why the slender 
pronunciation of thy should be ^voi^ed a$ mUci| 
as possible. 

Perhaps it will be urged, that though these 
passages require thj/ to be pronounced so as to 
rhyme with high, there are other instances in 
tragedy where the subject is low and familiar^ 
which wQiyild be more suitably pronounced hy 
sounding thy like the : to which it may be an- 
swered, when Tragedy lowers her voice, and de- 
scends into the mean and familiar, as is fre- 
quently the case in the tragedies of Shakspeare^ 
tne slender pronunciation of thy may be adopt- 
ed, because, though the piece may have the 
Tiame of a tragedy, the scene may be really cqr 
medy. The only rule, therefore,, that can be 
given, is a very indefinite €>n^ ^ napiely, that thy 
ought always to be pronounced so as to rhyme 
with high when the subject is raised and the 
personage dignified : but when the subject is 
femiliar^ and the person we address without 
dignity or importance, if Z;^ be the par&Qpal 
pronoun made use of,, it ought. t0 bfs pcQt 
nouBced like /Air; Thus, if, in aramiHarw&y>w^ 
say to a (riGndf^Give vub thy hand, we n^vfr hf ar 
the pronoun thy sounded so as rhyme with high z 
and it is always pronounced like the when 
speaking Jo_% chil4 i .^jj?. , saj^^mtsJ thj/ kg^k^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. is 

Hold up thy head, or, Take of thy hat. The 
phraseology we call thee and thouing is not in so 
common use with us as the tutoyant among the 
French; but as the second personal pronoun 
thou^ and its possessive thy is indispensable in 
composition, it seems of some importance to 
pronounce them properly. 

Hcfo^ to *proneunce the Adjective Possessive Pro- 
noun MiNEw 

I CALL this word an adjective possessive 
when it is used before a substantive, as it con« 
stantly is in Scripture when the substantive be« 
gins with a vowel ; as, " Mine eyes have seen 
^' thy salvation :'" and a substantive posses^^ 
sive when it stands alone, as, ^^ This book is 
^* mine.** In reading the Scripture we are at 
IM> loss about the pronunciation of this word, as 
the dignity and solemnity of the composition in* 
Tariably directs us to give the i its long sounds 
as in the substantive ; but in Milton, and other 
composition^ where there is no such dignity or 
solemnity, this pronunciation of the word has 
an intolerable stiffness, and ought 'not to be 
H^fl. Thus, in the Spectator, N'* 195, Mn 
Addison says, " Were I to prescribe a rule for 
drinking, it should be formed upon a saying 
quoted by Sir William Temple ; — ^The first 
** glass for myself, the second for my friends, 
'< die third for good humour^ and the fourth for 
•* wne enemies/' In Milton too. 



€£ 



Methought, 



CTIose ftt ndne ear, one called me forth to walk. 

Parad. LoiU 

In Shakspeare also ; 

p2 



5« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



'Sleeping within mine orchard. 



' My custom always in the afternoon. 
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, 
with juice of cursed hebonain a phial. 
And in the porches ofmitie ears did pour 
The leprous distilment. Hamlets 

In all these instances we find a formality, a 
staleness and uncouthness of sound, that is pe- 
culiarly displeasing to the ear : and as this mode 
of writing was introduced when our pronunci- 
ation may be said to have been in its infancy, for 
the sake of euphony (for it is clearly ungrammati- 
cal), so now that it may be said to have arrived 
at its maturity, the very same reason seems to 
entitle the present age to alter it; that is, I 
mean the pronunciation of it, by substituting 
my pronounced like me in its stead. 

The disagreeable sound which mine has, in 
these cases, to the ear, has inclined several 
readers to pronounce it min ; but by thus minc- 
itig" the matter (if the pun will be pardoned me) 
they mutilate the word, and leave it more dis- 
agreeable to the ear than it was before. Readers 
therefore seem to have no choice but to pro-^ 
Bounce it always as it is written, and to let the 
author be answerable for the ill sound ; or, in alt 
language, but that of Scripture, to change it into 
my pronounced like me. Shakspeare seeims to 
have used this word ludicrously in the Merry 
^ives of Windsor^ where FaktafF says, " Mine 
** host of the garter ; — truly mine host, I must 
** turn away spme of my followers :" and the 
host, by requesting FalstafF to speak scholarly 
and wisely, seems to intimate that this use of 
the word mine before a vowel or an h was the 
most correct way of speaking. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR/ OT 

But though thy will, in familiar or ludicrous 
language, admit of being changed in sound to 
ihe^^^-mine will on no occasion suffer an altera- 
tion into win. When it is used familiarly, it is al- 
ways a burlesque upon the grave use of it, and 
therefore requires the grave sound to be retail^* 
ed, or the humour of it would be lost. 

The indistinct sound of the word Not. 

From the frequent pronunciation of this word 
without the least necessity of placing an accent 
on it, we And it sometimes fall into an indistinct- 
ness which almost reduces the sound of it to 
ijtothing. When it is emphatically opposed to 
something positive, as. Though he asserts it is so, 
J assert it is notsQ j here the word has its genuine 
full sound, rhyming with hot-, shot, lot, Sec, but 
when there is no such opposition in the sense, 
we often hear it dwindle into nut, as, TTiis is a 
hint xvhich J have nut observed in any ^ qf our 
writers on this subject. Here we shall find the 
generality of readers Uy an accent upon have, 
and pronounce the word not in the obscure 
manner I have been describing : where it may 
be observed, though there ou^t not to be any 
emphasis on it, as in the former example, it 
should certainly be sounded ex;actly in the same 
distinct manner in both places. 

That the word not in a simple negative sen*? 
tence does not require an accent, but is pro«> 
nounced like an unaccented syllable of the word 
that precedes it, may be gathered from the col* 
loquial contraction of the negative phraser, cait# 
not, shall not, do not, into ca'n't, sha'rCt, don't 
S^c. It is true that these contrafitiom gueht 

p 3 



3S ^ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

never to appear in print, except in comedies 
and farces, where the language of the loweat 
vulgar is often adopted ; but it is perhaps impM^ 
sible to refuse them a place in spoken language, 
where the subject is common and familiar i 
though even l^rc they should be indulged a& 
little as possible i but be this as it may, they cer* 
tainly tend to show that a simple negative lays 
no stress on the negation, .or custom would ne-^ 
ver have so much obscured it in the contrac- 
tion. It may be observed in passing, that as 
these contractions have disappeared in print, 
they have been gradually vanishing from polite 
cpnversation ; and as they ought never to hav^^ 
place in public speaking, so those speakers in 
private may be looked upcm as the most elegant 
who make the least use of them. 

Hm^ to pronouxee the Pnrtkipial Tefminatien 

ING, 

" Thij pjtrtidpial termination ing is frequently 
a cause of embanrassment to readers who have 
a desire <o pronounce correctly ; nor is it easy 
to solve the difficulty. We are told, even by 
teachers-of English, that ing in the words sing- 
in^y brifigirijg^ and stoijigingy must be pronounced 
with the ringing sound which rs heard when 
the accent is on these letters, in words of one 
syllable, as, king, sing y and wingy and not as if 
written withtfnt the gy as^ sirigin, bringiUy swing- 
in. No one can be a greater advocate than 1 
ata for the strictest adherence to orthography, as 
long as ttie pubKc pronunciation pays the least 
attentio» to it j but when, from the nicest ob- 
sd^rvation of the best speakers, I find letters given 
up5 with resj^Gt te sound, I then consider them 



idffitORlGAL GRAMMAR.- ig 






i& dfphets. It is from observation I Can assert/ 
that our best ' speakers do not irivariably pro- 
nbunce the participial itig so ds to rhyrtle with- 
iingj king:, and ringy but sometimes only as the. 
preposition in. In the first pface, whenever the 
verb eftds with ing, as, to singy tb brifi^y Or td/fng;, 
th^ repetition of the tinging sound m the sylla-, 
bles immediately following each othef Would, 
have a very bad effect on me ear, and, instead 
^{singing, bringing, or flinging^ our best sjpre^ikers 
universally pronounce them singiny bringing an<^ 
Jlihgifi: for the very skme reason, we ought to ad* 
illit the ringing sound when the verb ends with 
tfis fofif, instead of sinning, pinning, and Se§7V>- 
ning, we should pronounce sinnin, pinniri, and 
beginnin, we should fall into the same disgusting 
repetitioii as iti the former examples. Tnat ing^ 
should not always have its ringing sound when 
^pdrtlcipial termination is not very wonderful, 
Wneh We* cdnsid^r how much it is the custom 
dfpronuricfation to shorten and obscure vowels, 
in final syllables, that are not under the stress. 
What a trifling omission is the g after n in these* 
syllables, to the mutilation of oient in the plurals 
of French verts* into a f But trifling as it is, it 
savoiirsr too much of vulgarity to omit it in anj^ 
words bilt 'Where the same sound immediately 
precedes?, as in singin, bringin, flingin, &c. with- 
out saying any thing of the ambiguity it may 
may posr^bly form by confounding it with the 
preposition in\ Writing, reading, and speaking, 
therefore, are certainly preferable to torittn, 
teadin, arid speakin, wherever the language has 
the least degree of precision or solemnity, and 
more particularly in reading or speaking ia 
public. 






40 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Hcnv to pronounce the Word To, when succeeded! 

by the Pronoun You, 
I HAVE frequently observed some little em-' 
barrasjsjnent in readers when they have met 
with these wprds without any accentual force 
on them ; as in the phrases, " I spoke to you 
aboijit it long ago," — " He wtnt to you about 
some important business/'^— In these phrases,, 
where you is. without accent or emphasis, 
and is, according to the foregoing rule, pro-t 
nounced ye, we sometimes hear the to sound-' 
edas if written tes as, "I spoke te ye^^hout, 
^' it long ago," &;c. But it may be observed,, 
that though the you may very properly in this 
Situation be sounded like j/<?, yet to must always 
preserve its true soundj, as if written two^ at least 
when we are reading, however it may be snffey-» 
ed^ tp approach to /e when we are speaking.; for 
Jt must ever be kept in mind, th^t ihere will 
always be a slight difference between easy or 
cursory conversation, and reading or oratorical 
speaking i or, in other words, between speak- 
ing . and talking : the one will admit of many 
contractions and slightnesses in pronunciation, 
which wQuld be wholly inexcpsable in the 
other. Writers on this subject commonly con-- 
tent themselves with referring us to the prac- 
tice of the best speakers; and without all ques-. 
tion, this is the principal object of attention '; but 
with the same advice that others give, I have 
attempted to add a few rules by vf^y qf render- 
ing the advice more useful. 

Having premised these observations on words, 
vft shajl next proceed to sentences ; as words, 
?irranged into sentencesj, m^y be properly called 
tte subject matter of the Art of Reading. . 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAI^. 41 

Beading d^ned. Its Relation to faking. . 

IReading is riot ill defined by a late writer 
on the subject, where he calls it artificial speak* 
ing *. It is an imitative art which has eloquent 
speaking for its model, as eloquent speakmg is 
an imitation of beautiful nature. Reading, there- 
fore, is to speaking what a copy is to an origi- 
nal picture ; both of them have beautiful nature 
for tneir object : and as a taste for beautiful na« 
ture can scarcely be better acquired, than by a 
view of the most elegant copies of it, speakine, 
it is presumed, cannot be more successful^ 
taught, than by referring us to such rules as^ 
instruct us in the art of reading. 

The art of reading is that system of rules which 
teaches us to pronounce written composition 
with justness, energy, variety, and ease. Agree- 
ably to this definition, reading may be consi- 
dered as that species of delivery which not 
only expresses the sense of an author, so a|. 
barely to be understood, but which, at the same 
time, gives it all that force, beauty, and variety, 
of which it is susceptible : the first of these con- 
siderations belongs to grammar, and the last to 
rhetoric. 

The sense of an author being the first object 
of reading, it will be necessary to inquire into 
those divisions and subdivisions of a sentence 
which are employed to fix and ascertain its 
meaning : this leads us to a consideration of the 
doctrine of puncttiation. 

Punctuation may be considered in two differ 
rent lights ; first, as it clears and preserves the 
sense of a sentence, by combining those words 

f Ri^'t Introdttct'on to thtt Art of Reading. 



4i RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

togethtt' that are united in sense, and* scpafat-^ 
ki^ those W^ich are distinct ; and, secondly,: as 
it directs to such pauses, elevations, and depress 
aions of the voice, as not only mark the sense of 
the sentence, but give it a variety and beauty 
which recommends it to the ear 5 for in speaj^i" 
ing, as in other axts, the useful and the agreet 
itble are. almost always found to coincide, aiad 
every real embellishment proniotcs and perfects 
the principal dj^sign* 

In ofder^ tHere^re, to have as clear ,an.id^^ of 
punctuation a^|)K>ssibie, it will be necessary to 
con^idei it ^ related to grai^n^^r and rhetoric 
distinctly. A systejn of punctuation may bp^fiufr 
$e\^nt for tlSe purposes of grammar ; or, in other 
WQfds, it may« be Sfoifficient to clear and preserve 
the sense of an author, and at the same time be 
but a very imperfect guide to the pr<)nunciatf0n 
of it. The art of speaking, though;^^unded,on 
gramn^ar, has principles : of i^s own: principle^ 
that arise from the j&ajare of the livipg voices 
from the percept^Qo' ofMrmony in the ear, and 
from a certain su^raddition to the sense pf 
language, of which, grammar takes no account* 
These principles necessarily influence pur pr(>? 
enunciation, atidr direct us to pat^ses, whiqh.are 
entirely unknown to every systenf of punctif^^ 
tion in use. 

But though the puipqtuation in use does not 
answer all the purjposes of reading ^nd speakings 
it must, nevertheless, be allowed to be pf consi- 
derable adv&lltage. It does not indeed give us 
half the pauses which a just pronunciation seems 
to require ;. and those pauses it does give are sel« 
dom such as precisely mark the sense of a 
sentence , but stillk directs, the eye to intervals 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 4S 

proper for some pauses, and serves to keep 
members from running into each other, and con* 
founding the sense of the sentence : and if a 
few simple rules *, founded on the nature of a 
sentence, were adopted by writers and prtjiters, 
there is not the least doubt but the art oi i«e.ading 
might be greatly facilitated and improved. 

But the business of this essay is oot so much 
to construct -a new system of punctuation, as to 
endeavour to make the best use of that which 
is already established ; an attempt to reduce the 
whole doctrine of rl^torical punctoalkn to a 
few plain simple principles^ which may emhle 
the reader, in some measure, to point for him- 
self: for this purpose^ it will, in the first place, 
be necessary to exhibit a general idea of the 

, punctuation in use> that we m*ay be better en- 

abled to see how far it will assist us in the prac- 
tice of pronunciation, and where we must have 
recourse to principles more permanent and sy* 

I stematical. 



I 



General Idea qf the common Doctrine of Punc* 

tuation. 

Dr. LoWTH defines punctuation to be, *' the 
^^ art of marking in writing the several pauses, 
** or rests, between sentences, and the parts of 
« sentences, * according to their proper quan* 
" tity or proportion, as they are expressed in a 
^ just and accurate pronunciation." Others, as 
Sir James Burrow and Dr. Bowles, besides con- 
sidering the points as marks of rest and pauses, 
suppose them to be hints for a different modu<« 

♦ For Uicse Rules, se^ Elements of Elocution, p. 98, 





44 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

ktion of voice, or rules for regulating the accent 
of the voice, in reading ; but v^hether this mo^- 
duUtion of voice relates to all the points, or to 
ttie int^rrogaUon, exclamation, and parenthesis 
only, we are not informed. Grammarians are 
pretty |;enerally agreed in distinguishing the 
pauses into 

The period "1 

ITie colon f ^^^^ ^^ 

The semicolon C 

The comma J 

and those pauses which are accompanied with 
an alteration in the tone of voice, into 

The interrogation 1 

The exclamation > marked thus 

The parenthesis } ( () 

The period is supposed to be a pause double the 
time of the colon j the colon, double that qf the 
$emicoJon s and the semicolon, double that qf the 
comma> or smallest pause ; the interrogation 
and exclamation points are said to be indefinite 
as to their quantity of time, and to mark an ele- 
vation of voice ; and the parenthesis to mark a 
moderate depression of the voice, with a paiiStC 
greater than the comma. 

The Use qfthe Comma. 

* 

A SIMPI4E sentence, that is, a sentence hav- 
ing but one subject, or nominative, and one finite 
verb, admits of no pause. Thus in the follow- 
ing sentence: The passion for praise produces ex-^ 
cellent effects in women of sense. The passion for 
praise is the subject, or nominative case, to the 
verb produces, and excellent effects in t^omen of 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 4t 

$ins€ is the object or accusative case, with its^ 
concomitant circumstances or adjuncts of speci-* 
fication, as Dr, Lowth very properly terms them i 
and this sentence, says the learned bishop, ad-* 
mits of no pause between any of its parts, but 
when a new verb is added to the sentence, as in 
the following : The passion for praise, xvhich is so 
very vehement in the fair seXy produces excellent 
effects in women of sense. Here a new verb is 
introduced, accompanied with adjuncts of its 
own, and the subject is repeated by the relative 
pronoun which : it now becomes a compounded 
sentence, made up of two simple sentences^ 
one of which is inserted iii the middle of the 
other ; it must, therefore, be distinguished into 
its component pa^s by a point, placed on each 
side of the additional sentence. 

In every sentence, therefore, as many sub- 
jects, or as many finite verbs, as there are, either 
expressed or implied, so many distinctions there 
may be : as. My hopes, fears, joys, pains, all cen-^ 
tre in you. The case is the same, when several 
adjuncts affect the subject of the verb : as, A 
good, wise, learned man is an ornament to the com* 
monzvealth ; or, when several adverbs, or ad- 
verbial circumstances, affect the verb : as. He 
behaved himse^ modestly, prudently, virtuously. 
For as many such adjuncts as there are, so many 
several members does the sentence contain; and 
these are to be distinguished from each other as 
much as several subjects or finite verbs. The 
reason of this is, that as ihany subjects, finite 
verbs, or adjuncts, as there are in a senteitce, so 
many distinct sentences are actually implied ; as 
the first example is equivalent to — My hopes alt 
centre in you^ my fears all centre in you, &c.— 



4t RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

The second example is equivalent to — A good 
man is an ornament to the commonwealth ; a wise 
man is an ornament to the commomvealth^ &c. 
The third example is equivalent to — He bekflved 
kims^lf modestly, he behaved himself* prudent ly^ 
&c» and these implied sentences are all to be 
distinguished by a comma. 

The exception to this rule is, where these sub^ 
jects or adjuncts are united by a conjunction: as. 
The imagination and the judgement do not always 
agree; and, A man never becomes learned without 
studying constantly and methodically. In these 
cases the comma between the subjects and ad- 
juncts is omitted. 

There are some other kinds of sentences, 
which, though seemingly simple, are nevertheless 
of the compound kind, and really contain several 
subjects, verbs, or adjuncts. ^Thus in the sen- 
tences containing what is called the ablative ab-^ 
^nt^l^Sy Physicians, the disease once discovered, 
think the cure hdlf wrought; where the words, the 
disease once discovered, are equivalent to, when the 
cause of the disease is discovered. So in those sen- 
tences, where nouns are added by apposition : 
as. The Scots, a hardy people, endured it all. So 
»lso in those, where vocative cases occur : as. 
This, my friend, you must allow me. The first of 
these examples is equivalent to. The Scots en^ 
(hired it all, and. The* Scots, who are a hardy peo- 
J^, endured it aU; and the last to — This you must 
alk)w me, and this my friend must allow me. 

The Use of the Semicolon, Colon, and Period. 

Whi^n a sentence can be divided into two 
or more members, which members are again 



•• 






•« 



RHETORICAL GSIAMfiffAR. 4^ 

divisible ioto numbers more simplei the former 
are to be separated by a semicolon* 

EXAMPLE, 

But as this passion for admiration, when it works according 
to reason, improves the beautiful part of our ^species in every 
thing that is laudable ; so nothing is more destructive to them^ 
when it is governed by vanity and folly. 

When a sentence can be divided into two 

Earts, each of which parts are again divisible 
y semicolons, the former are to be separated 
by a colon. 

EXAMPLES.. 

As we cannot discern the shadow moving aI<M^ the dial* 
plate^ so the advances we make in knowledge are only per- 
ceived by the distance gone over. 

Here the two members, being both simple, 
are Qnly separated by a comma. 

As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but cUd not 
perceive it moving; so our advances in learnings as they con^ 
sist of such minute steps> are only perceivable by the di- 
stance. 

Here the sentence being divided into two 
equal parts, and those compounded, since they 
include others, we separate the former by a 
semicolon, and thq latter by commas. 

As we perceive the shadow to have moved along the dia!, 
but did not perceive it moving ; and it appears that the grass 
has grown, though nobody ever saw it grow : so the advances 
we make in knowledge, as they consist of such minute steps, 
are only perceivable by the distance. 

Here the advancement in knowledge is comK 
pared to the motion of a shadow, and the growtte 
of grass ; which comparison divides the sen- 
tence into two principal parts : but since what' 
is said of the movement of the shadow^ and a£ 



48 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

fte growth of ^ss^ likewise contains two sim^ 
pie jcnembers, they are to be separated by a se-* 
micolon ; consequently, a higher pointing is re- 
quired, to separate them from the other part of 
«ie sentence^ which they are opposed to : arid 
this is a colon. 

When a member of a sentence forms complete 
sense^ and does not excite expectation of what 
follows, though it consist but of a simple mem* 
ber, it may, be marked with a colon « 

EXAMPLES. 
The discourse consisted of two parts: in thefirs£ wasshoWh 
tbe necessity of fighting; iii the secotid, the advantages that 
wbttld arbe from iL 

The Augustan age was so eminent for good po«ts^ that they 
have served as models to all others : yet it did not produce 
any good tragic poets. 

When a sentence is so far perfectly finished, 
as not to be connected in construction with the 
following sentence, it is marked with a period. 

The Interrogation^ Exclamation, and Parenthesis. 

The note of interrogation is used to show 
that a question is asked : as. What day of the 
month is this ? It likewise distinguishes a ques- 
tion from a sentence in the imperative mood : 
as. Do you return * f Interrogative sentences re- 

* This distinction of the voice, applied to a distinction of in* 
terrogative sentences, into those that begin with and without 
the iriterrogative words, is extracted from a spelling-book, 
vritten by Mr. Perry, a very industrious, accurate, and inge- 
nious writer on English pronunciation, at Edinburgh. Thit 
author, and one Chtirles Butler, of Magdalen College, Oxford^ 
111 his English Grammar, 1633, are the only writers in whom 
I ever met with the least hint of this very important distigo^ 
tion- 



' • 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 49 

quire an elevation of the voice, except the ques- 
tion be asked by the pronouns, whoywhich^ what ; 
or the adverbs, hozVy wherCy when, &c. ; for in 
these cases you must give a moderate cadence 
to your voice, and let the pause be governed by 
the sense of the subject. 

A parenthesis is a sentence inserted into the 
body of another sentence, to illustrate its mean- 
ing, but is neither necessary to the sense, nor at 
all affects the construction. It marks a mo- 
derate depression of the voice, with a pause 
greater than a comma, 

EXAMPLE. 

When they were both turned of forty (an age in which, 
according to Mr. Cowley, there is no dallving with life) they 
<letermined to retire^ ana pass the remaincfer of their days in 
the country. Spect. NM23. 

An exclamation denotes an emotion of mind, , 
and requires an elevation of voice, with a pause 
equivalent either to a comma, colon, semicolon, 
or period, as the sense demands. 

EXAMPLE. 

» 

The^e are thy glorious works, parent of good ! 
Almighty ! Thme this universal frame. 

Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous then ! / 

Mihcn. 

This is the most concise and comprehensive 
scheme of punctuation I could possibly collect 
from the several authors, who have written on 
this subject ; but these rules, though sufficient 
to prevent confusion in writing, are very inade- 
quate to the purposes of a just and accurate pro- 
nunciation : as it is certain that a just, a forcible, 
and easy pronunpiation, will oblige a judicious 
reader to pause niuch more frequently*, than the 



^0 kHETORIdAL GRAMMAR. 

most correct and accurate writers or printer* 
give him leave. But I must again observe, that 
when I contend for the propriety, and even ne- 
cessity, of pausing^ where we nnd no points in 
Writing or printing, I do not mean to disturb the 
present practice of punctuation : I wish only to 
afford such aids to pronunciation as are actually 
made use of by the best readers and speakers, 
and such as we must use in reading and speak- 
inor in public, if we would wish to pronounce 
with justness^ energy, and ease. 

Rhetorical Punctuation. 

• t^uNCJttrATtoN, or the doctrine of pausing^ 
If philosophically considered, will be found to 
extend much further than is generally supposed : 
for if pausing; is that resting between words and 
members of sentences which marks their seve- 
ral degrees of connexion and dependence oa 
each other, whatever difference is found in the 
degrees of connexion or dependence, so many 
different marks ought to be adopted to point 
them out. But though the degrees of connexion 
and dependence are confessedly many and va- 
rious, there are no more than four marks by 
which to denote them. It is true, these marks suf- 
ficiently answer the purposes of written language, 
by keeping the members of sentences from run- 
ning into each other, and producing ambiguity : 
but when we regard them as guides to pronun- 
ciation, they fail us at almost every step. Those 
who are acquainted with the Art of Reading 
feci this very sensibly 3 and are obliged to supply 
the deficiencies of the points, by. pauses which 
are suggested to them by the structure and im* 



RHETCMWCAt GRAMMAR. si 

port of the sentence. Many hints have been 
offered to assist the reader and speaker in the 
practice of pausing, and more might be given 
oy an attentive observer; but that which ap- 
pears to have been overlooked by all our punc- 
tuistSy is, that pausing is oftea relative ; that is^ 
that many pauses owe their existence not so 
much to the necessity of distinguishing the sub- 
ordinate pa^ts of a sentence^ as to the necessity 
of showing the actual subordination of one 
member to another ; or, in other words, in order 
to class together such portions of a sentence as 
belong to each other more intimately than those 
that are not so classed. Thus, in the following 
sentence, 

" Half the misery of the greatest part of man- 
^* kind might be extinguished, would men alle- 
** viate the general curse they lie under by mu* 
** tual offices of compassion, benevolence, and 
*^ humanity." Spectator, N** 1 69. 

If we make a pause at misery , and none at 
mankind^ we find an improper classification of 
the words; which is immediately removed either 
by pausing at mankind and not pausing at mise- 
ry S or by pausing at them both, or by pausing 
at neither. 

Another instance will show us more clearly 
how punctuation depends upon classification, 
t)r such an association of parts as shows the 
imion and distinction of such as ere similar and 
sudi as are dififerent. ^ 

When the pfoud steed shall know why man restrains 
* His fiery course, or drives hira o'er the plains ; 
When Ine dull ox, why now he breaks the clod. 
Why now a victim^ and now Egypt's god : 

£2 



Sa . RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. '' 

Then shall man's pride and dulness coihprehend 

His actions', passibns', being's use and end. ♦ 

Papers Essay on MarL 

In the last couplet of this passage, if we paiise 
at comprehend without pausing at dulness, we 
shall not sufficiently distinguish the subject and 
the verb ; if we place a pause at dulness and not 
at comprehendy we shall not distinguish the verb 
from that dass of words which form its object ; 
but, if we pause both at dulness and at compre*- 
hendy we shali'mark both these distinctions, arid 
class all the words together, according to their 
respe(!:tive similarities and differences. ' 

Pausing, therefore, does not seem to depend 
so much on placing a pause in any particular 
part, of a sentence, as in that part which most 
requires it. Thus we may very properly plic6 
a pause in the middle of a complex nominative 
case 'y but if, after this, we join the whole nomi- 
native to the verb, without a pause, we shall 
soon,^ perceive an improper classification of 
words : which proves that pausing is relative, 
and that a pause is proper or improper, not ab- 
solutely and considered by itsielf, but relatively 
and as it stands connected with other pauses ; 
which can arise from nothing but the perception 
of the impropriety of distinguishing the parts of 
a subordinate portion, such as those which 
form the nominative case to the verb, and not 
distinguishing the two superior portions; the 
verb^ and the nominative case : which is the 
same absurdity as to distinguish the parts of a 
part, and not the parts of a whole. Thus we. 
may distinguish the superior parts without dis- 
tinguishing the inferior, but not vice vena. 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- S% 

• As this idea of punctuation ' is at least new 
^d curious, it may deserve a little further illus- 
tration. 

" As this cruel practice of party-lying tends 
•^ to the utter subversion of all truth and huma- 
nitv among us, it deserves the utmost detes- 
tation and discQuragement of all who have 
** either the love of their country, or the honour 
*' of their religion at heart." Spectator, NM5 1 . 

This sentence has but two commas in it, as it 
lies in Ae Spectator before me: but who is there 
qf the least discernment who does not perceive 
a great number of other pauses which might be 
adopted for the purpose of more distinctly con- 
veying the sense ? In the first place, the com- 
pound nominative contains a class of words end- 
ing at lyingy which are united as forming the 
subject of the verb, tends; which may be very 
properly distinguished from the next class of 
words which form the objeci of the verb ; and 
as this object is compounded of two subordi- 
nate classes, namely ; the utter subversioity and 
qf all truth and humanity among us ; we may 
pause better at subversion than in any other part 
of this clause ; and as the next principal construc- 
tive member has for its nominative a single word, 
and that only a personal pronoun, it admits of no 
pause after it : but the regimen of the succeed- 
ing verb, consisting of several classes ofwords^ 
requires a pause aUer the verb, to distinguish it 
from the regimen, and a- pause at discourage- 
menty to distmguish the class which forms the 
former part of tHe regimen from the latter ; and 
a pause at all^ to distinguish the persons under- 
Stood by thi^ word and the next member which 

E 3 



54. RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

describes them ; and this last descriptive mem- 
ber, beginning with the nominative who^ and th# 
verb hav€y being followed by another compound 
member consisting of two parts, which form the 
regimen of the verb, must have a pause at have^ 
and another at country y in order to distinguish 
the verb from the regimen, and the parts of the 
regimen from each other. 

It must not be understood that I recommend 
*all these pauses as necessary. Certainly not. What 
I wish to inculcate is, that, if we pause ofterier 
than the common punctuation sets down for us, 
our pauses ought to take place in those parts of 
th^ sentence where the words naturally fall into 
classes ; and that if we pause at a subordinate 
class of words, we must necessarily pause at a 
superior class, otherwise we shall produce dis* 
order and confusion in the thought. 

It may perhaps be objected to this system, 
that there are some classes of words whidi can* 
not be separated from other classes without a 
manifest impropriety. Thus, in the following 
sentence from Mr. Addison : 

^'^ I consider a human soul without education 
** like marble in the quarry; which shows none 
" of its inherent beauties till the skill of the po- 
•* Usher fetches out the colours, makes the sur- 
" face shine, and discovers every ornamental 
cloud spot and vein that runs through the 
body of it." Sped. '^^ 215. 

. Here it may be said, that cloudy spoty and wm, 
form a class, and ought, therefore, to be dis- 
tinguished from ornamental by a pause between 
that word and cloudy as well as between chud 
and the tWo following words. To this ohjeq^ 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 55 

tion it may be answered, ^hat if we consider 
the word ornamental as an adjective qualifying 
only the word cloud, the words every ornamental 
cloud may be considered only as one object, as 
the words every oj'namental are only like an ad- 
jective before the substantive which refuses a 
pause (See Elements of Elocution, page 23), 
jBut if we consider eveyy ornamental to qualify 
spot and vein as well as cloud, ^nd only omitted 
for the sake of brevity, these words do not so 
much form one distinct class, as three distinct 
classes forming altogether one compound class, 
governed by the verb discovers. Here, too, we 
may perceive the general rule takes place which 
forbids a pause between the adjective and the 
substantive in the natural order, and which 
makes it improper to pause at ornamental. But 
if we suppose this word elliptically omitted be- 
fore spot, another general rule obliges us to pause 
after cloud, that the mind may supply the word 
ornamentals for nothing can be more uniform in 
correct pronunciation, than the rule that enjoins 
us to make a pause wherever there is an ellipsis 
jn the language. 

This appears to be the true rationale of Punc- 
tuatipn ; and,swith this principle in view, we shall 
be enabled to enter into a detail of those rules 
which are commonly laid down in our gram- 
roars, to judge of the justness of them, and to 
add such others as none of our punctuists have 
taken notice of. 

But, first, it will be necessary to ipake a dis- 
tinction of punctuation, which will sound new 
to every one, and tliat is into visible and audi- 
ble. Visible Punctuation is that which sepa- 
rates a sentence into its several parts, and shows 

. E 4 



56 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

the degree of separation that exists by the time 
of the pause between the several parts; and 
Audible Punctuation annexes to these pauses 
such a turn or elevation and depression of the 
voice as the sense and structure of sentence 
seem to require. Of both these in their order. 



J Practical St/stem of Rhetorical Punctuation. 

Of Visible Punctuation. 

Before we give such directions for pausing, 
or dividing a sentence, as will in some mea- 
sure enable us to avoid the errors of common 
punctuation, it will be necessary to inquire into 
the nature of a sentence, and to distinguish it 
into its different kinds. Sentences are of two 
kinds: a period, or compact sentence, and a 
loose sentence. A period, or compact sentence, 
is an assemblage or such words, or members, as 
do not form sense independent of each other ; 
or, if they do, the former modify the latter, or 
inversely. A loose sentence is an assemblage 
of such words, or members, as do form sense, 
independent of those that follow, and at the 
same time are not modified by them : a period, 
or compact^sentence, therefore, is divisible into 
two kinds ; the first, where the former words 
and members depend for sense on the latter, as 
in the following sentence : As zve cannot discern 
the skadozv moving along the dial-plate^ so the ad-^ 
vances we make in learning are only perceived hy 
the distance gone over. Here we find no sense 
formed till the last word is pronounced ; and 
this sentence, for distinction's sake, we may call 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. «1 

a direct period : the second kind of period, or 
compact sentence, is that, where, though the 
first part forms sense without the latter, it is ne- 
vertheless modified by it ; as in the following 
sentence : There are several arts which all men are 
in some measure masters ofy rmthoitt being at the 
pains of learning them. H^re, if we stop at ma-- 
sters,ofy we find complete sense formed, but not 
the whole sense ; because what follows modi- 
fies or alters the meaning of it : for it is not said 
simply, that there are several arts, which all men 
are in some measure masters of, but with this 
qualification or change in the sense, without be- 
ing at the pains of learning them, which reduces 
the general to a particular meaning : and this 
sentence we may call an inverted period. The 
loose sentence has its first members forming 
sense, without being modified by the latter ; as 
in the following sentence : Pej^sons of good taste 
expect to be pleased at the same time they are in- 
formed ; and think that the best sense always de- 
serves the best language. In which example we 
find the latter member adding something to the 
former, biit not modifying or altering it. 

This difl^erence of connexion between the 
members of sentences, and consequently the dif- 
ferent pauses to be annexed to them, will be 
better understood by attending to the different 
influence of the conjunction that and the rela- 
tive which in the following passage \ 

A man should endeavour to mike the sphere of his inno*. 
cent pie^^ures as wide as possible, that he may retire into them 
with %^^^iy, and find in them such a satisfaction as a wise man 
would fiot blush to take. Of this nature are those of the ima- 
gination^ which do not r.equire such a bent of thought as is ne- 
cessary to our most serious employments, nor at the same time 



SB RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

safFer tbemuid to sink into that neg'Hgence smcf remlssBesffj^ 
which are apt to accompany our more sensual delights. 

Spectator, 1^''4U. 

In the first of these sentences we find t^e con- 
junction thai modifies or restrains the meaning 
of the preceding member ; for it is not asserted 
in general^ and without limitation, that a man 
fchould make the sphere of his innocent plea- 
sures as wide as possible, but that be should da 
so for the purpose of retiring into himself: these 
two members, therefore, are necessarily con- 
nected, and might have formed a period, or 
compact sentence, had they not been followed 
hj the last member; but as that only adds to the 
sense of the preceding members, an.d doe§ not 
qualify them, the whole assemblage of mem- 
bers, taken together, form but one loose s6n* 
tence. 

The last member of the last sentence is ne^ 
cessarily connected with what precedes, because 
It modifies or restrains the meaning of it j for it / 
is not meant, that the pleasures or the imagina- 
tion do not suffer the mind to sink into negli* 
gence and remissness in general, but into tnat 
particular negligence and remissness which i% 



:sjpi to accompany our more sensual delights* 
The first member of this sentence affords an op- 
portunity of explaining this by its opposite : for 
lere it is not meant, that those pleasures of the 
imagination only are of this innocent nature 
which do not require such a bent of thought as 
is necessary to our more serious employments ; 
but that, of this nature are the pleasures of the 
imagination in general ; and it is byxasking the 
question, whether a preceding member affirms 
any thing in general> or only afiirms something; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. M 

ds limited or qualified by what foll6ws, that we 
shall discover whether these members are either 
immediately or remotely connected ; and, con- 
sequently, whether they form a loose or a com- 
pact sentence : as the former meinber, therefore, 
of the last sentence is not necessarily connected 
with those that succeed^ the sentence may be 
pronounced to be a loose sentence. 

Sentences thus, defined and distinguished intd 
their severaLkinds, we shall be better enabled 
to give such ruies for dividing them by pauses, 
as will reduce punctuation to some rational and 
steady principles. Previously, however, to these 
rules, it will be necessary to observe, that, as the 
times of the pauses are exceedingly indefinite, 
the fewer distinctions we make between them, 
the less we shall embarrass the reader ; — I shall 
beg leave, therefore, to reduce the number of 
pauses to three: namely, the smaller pause^ an- 
swering to the comma ; the greater pause, an- 
swering to the semicolon, and colon ; and the 
greatest pause, answering to the period* llie 
ancients knew nothing of the semicolon; and, 
if we consider practice, and real utility, I believe 
it will be found, that the three distinctions of 
the aiicients answer every useful purpose ia 
writing and reading. 

Rules for Pausing. 

^ 

The principal Pause in the compact Sentence. 

Ru L E I. Every direct period consists of two 
principal constructive . parts, between which 
parts the greater pause must be inserted : when 



60 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

these parts commence with conjunctions that 
correspond with each other, they are sufficiently 
distinguishable ; as in the following sentence : 

- As no faculty of the mind is capable of more improvement 
ilian the memory, so none is in more danger of decay by dis- 
use. 

Here we may observe, that the first constnrc* 
live part begins with asy and the second with so ^ 
the expectation is excited by the first, and an- 
swered by the latter : at that point, therefore, 
where the expectation begins to be answered^ 
and the sense begins to form, the principal pause 
is to" be used ; and; by these means, the two 
contrasted and correspondent parts are distinctly 
viewed by the mind. ' - 

A period may be direct, and may be properly 
called a compact sentence, where only the first 
conjunction is expressed. 

EXAMPLE. 
As in my speculations I have endeavoured to extinguish 
passion and prejudice, I am still desirous of doing some good 
in this particular. Spectator. 

' Here the word so is understood before / a?ny, 
and the long pause as much required, as if ^a 
had been expressed; since it is here the sen- 
tence naturally divides into two correspondent, 
and dependent parts. 

That point, therefore, where the sense begins 
to form, or where the expectation begins to be 
answered, is the point which we must be the 
most careful to mark ; as it is here the sentence 
naturally divides into its principal constructive 
parts, and it is here that in every sentence and 
member of a sentence the principal pause take^ 
place. 



llHETORICAL GRAMMAR* 61 

J^uLE II. Every inverted period consists of 
two ptincipal constructive parts, betv^een which 
parts the greater pause must be inserted ; these 
parts divide at that point where the latter part 
of the sentence begins to modify the former : in 
periods of this kind, the latter conjunction only 
is expressed, as in the example : Every one that 
tpeaks and reasons is a grammarian^ and a logi"' 
cian, though he may he utterly unacquainted with 
the rules of grammar^ or logic, as they are deli- 
vered in books and systems. If we invert this 
period, we shall find it susceptible of the two 
correspondent conjunctions //KOtto^/r znA yet ; as, 
Tk9ugh utterly unacquainted xoith the rules of 
grammar and logic, as delivered in booh and sys- 
terns f yet every man who speaks and reasons is a 
grammarian, and a logician. This inversion of the 
order of a sentence, is, perhaps, the best crite- 
rion of the connexion of its parts ; and proves 
that the former, though forming complete sense 
of itself, is modified by the latter. Thus, in the 
phrases, Christ died for him^ because he died for 
alL-^Many things are believed, though they ex^ 
ceed the capacity of our tvits. Hooker. 

In these phrases, if we do but transpose the 
noun and pronoun, and invert the order, the 
sentences will be perfectly the same in sense, 
and the connexion will be more apparent ; as. 
Because Christ died for all, he died for Am.-— 
Though many things exceed the capacity of our 
wits, they are believed. 

Wherever, therefore, this transposition can 
take place, we may be certain of a necessary 
connexion in the sense, and that the principal 
pause lies between the two parts. 



1 



fi2 RHEtORICAL GRAMMAR* 



The principal Pause in the loose Sentence* 

RiILE III. Every loose sentence must consist 
of a period, either direct or inverted, and an ad- 
ditional member which does not modify it ; and, 
consequently, this species of sentence requires a 
pause between the principal constructive parts 
oi the period, and between the period and the 
additional member* 

EXAMPLE. 
. l^ersoiR of g(tocI taste expect to be pleased, at the same tim^ 
tbey are informed \ and think that the best sense always de* 
aerv^es the best language* 

In this sentence an inverted period is con- 
structed at the word infoJTued; which requires a 
pause at pleased, because here the former part 
of the sentence is modified by the latter ; and a 
pause is required at irifornied, because here an- 
other member commences. Let us take another 
example. 

The soul, considered abstractedly from its passions, is of a. 
xemiss and sedentary nature; slow in its resolves, and lai^uish- 
ing in its executions^ Spectator, N* 2S5^ 

Here a direct period is formed at nature, the 
principal constructive parts of this period sepa* 
tate at passions ; and here must be the larger 
pause : the succeeding members are only addi- 
tional, and require a larger pause between them 
and the period they belojig to, and a smaller 
pause between each other at resolves. 

The subordinate Pause in the compact Sentence. 

Having given an idea of the principal pause 
in a sentence^ it will be necessary to say some- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 6) 

tWng of thtt subordinate pauses, which may all 
be comprehended under what is called the short 
pause. 

And first it may be observed, that by the long 
pause is not meant a pause of any determinate 
rength, but the longest pause in the sentence* 
Thus, the pause between the nominative and the 
ve^rb in the following sentence : 

The great and invincibie Alexander^ wept for the &te of 
Darius. 

iThe pause here, V say, may be called the long 
pause, though not half so long as the pause be* 
tween the two principal constructive parts in the 
following sentence : 

If impudence prevailed as much in the Forum and courts of 
Justice, as insolence does in the country and places of less re- 
sort; Aulus Caecina would submit as much to the impudence 
of Sextus iEbutius in this*cause> as he did before to his iuso» 
le&ce when assaulted by him* 

Here the pause between the words resort and 
' Aulu$ Cctcvna may be called the long pause, not 
so m«ch from its duration, as from its being the 
principal pause in the sentence : the long pause, 
therefore, must always be understood relatively 
to the smaller pauses : and it may pass for a good 
general rule, that the principal pause is longer, 
or shorter, according to the simplicity or com- 
plexity of the sentence. See page 4-7. 

Rule IV. The subordinate pauses are easily 
distinguished in such sentences as consist ot 
parts corresponding to parts, as in the last ex- 
ample ; where we may oblserve, that the whole 
sentence readily divides itself into two principal 
conslructive parts at resort : the fir^t part as 



64 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

readily divides into two subordinate parts Ktju^'^ 
tice ; and the last^ into two other subordinate 
parts at cause; and these are all the pauses ne- 
cessary. But if, either from the necessity o( 
drawing breath, or of more strongly enforcing 
every part of this sentence, we were to admit of 
more pauses than these, it cannot be denied, 
that, for this purpose, some places more readily 
admit of a pause than others : if, for instance, 
the first subordinate part were to admit of two 
pauses, they could no where be so suitably 
placed as at impudence ^nd Forum; if the next 
might be over-pointed in the same manner, the 
points would be less unsuitable at does and 
country than at any other words ; in the same 
manner, a pause might be more tolerable at 
C<ecina and JSbutius, and at before and insolence, 
than in any other of the subordinate parts of the 
latter division of this sentence. 

The parts of loose sentences which admit of 
the short pause must be determined by the 
same principles. If this sentence has been pro- 
perly defined, it is a sentence consisting of a , 
clause containing perfect sense, followed by aa 
additional clause which does not modify it. 
Thus, in the following example : 

Foolish men are more apt to consider what they have hst, 
than what they possess ; and to turn their eyes on those who 
are richer than themselves; rather than on those who are under 
greater difficulties. 

Here a perfect sentence is formed at possess, 
and here must be the longest pause, as it iur 
tervenes between two parts nearly independent: 
the principal pause in the first member of this 
sentence, which, respecting the whole sentence, 
may be. called a subordinate pause, is at Igs^, 



/ 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. &$ 

tod that of the last member at themselves; if, 
for the sake of precision, other and shorter 
pauses were admitted, it should seem most suit- 
able to admit them at men and consider in the 
first member, at eyes and those in the first part of 
the second member, and at those in the last. In 
these observations, however, it must be carefully 
understood, that this multiplicity of shorter 
pauses is not recommended as necessary or 
proper, but only as possible, and to be admitted 
occasionally : and to drav<r the line as much as 
possible between what is necessary and unne- 
cessary, we shall endeavour to bring together 
such particular cases as demand the short 
pause, and those where it cannot be omit- 
ted without hurting either the sense or the 
delivery. 

RtJLE V. When a nominative consists of 
more than one word, it is necessary to pause 
after it. 

When a nominative and a verb come in a sen- 
tence, unattended by adjuncts, no pause is ne- 
<:essary, either for the ear or understanding ; thus 
in the following sentence : Alexander zvepi : — no 
pause intervenes between these words, because 
they convey only two ideas> which are appre 
faetided the moment they are pronounced ; but 
if these words are amplined by adjuncts of spe- 
cification^ as in the following sentence: The 
^reat and invincible Alexander y wept for the fate 
i)f Daring. Here a pause is necessary between 
these words, not only that the organs may pro- 
nounce the whole with more ease> but that the 
complex nominative and verb may, by being s« 



I 

i 



' 



66 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR; 

i 

parately and distinctly exhibited, be more readi- 
ly and distinctly conceived *. 

This rule is so far from being unnecessary, 
when we are obliged to pause after the verb, 
that it then becomes more essential. 

EXAMPLE. 

This account of party patches will, I am afraid, appear im- 
probable to those who live at a distance from the fashionable 
world. j^ddisan's Sped, K° SI. 

* 

If in this sentence we only pause at willy as 
marked by the printer, we shall find the verb 
swallowed up as it were by the nominative case, 
and confounded with it ; but if we make a 
short pause, both before and after it, we shall 



* It Is not a little astonishing that so acute a grammarian as 
Beauz6e should make the propriety of a pause in this case de- 
pend, not on the necessity of distinguishing [^rts more or less 
connected, but on the necessity of breathing. If the sense is 
impaired by a pause, a pause is absolutely inadmissible in tlic 
longest as well as the shortest sentence; but if a pause be- 
tween the nominative and verb, where the nominative con- 
sists of many words, does not injure the sense, but rather 
clears and strengthens it, we may safely pronounce that a 
pause between every complex nominative and verb is not only 
admissible but necessary. 

His examples of sentences where we may pause, and where 
• we may not, are the following : 

L'hornmeinjuste ne voit la mort que conune unfantdtne qffreux, 
Theor. des Sent. chap. 14. 

La venue des faux Christs, et des faux prophetes, semhloit itre un 
plus prochain acheminement ^ la demicrc ruine, Bossuet Disc. 
\w mist. Univ. P. II. 

But if the foregoing observations are just, a pause in ^peak- • 
ing is quite as admissible at injuste)aL% sitpropMes: for, to use his 
own words — C^est une errevr sensible, defaire deptndre le degre 
dH affinite de phrases de leur plus ou moins d'eteudue ; un atonic 
dent aussipeu (i un autre ntmne qu'une jnon^agne ci unemontagne. 
Gram. Generale, vol. ii. p. 592. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 67 

find every part of the sentence obvious and di- 
stinct. 

That the nominative is more separable from 
the verb than the verb from the objective case, 
IS plain from the propriety of pausing at self- 
hve, and not ^t forsook, in the following ex- 
ample : 

Self-love forsook the path it first pursu'd. 
And found the private in the public ^ood. 

Popes Essay on Man. 

The same may be observed of the last line 
of the following couplet : . 

Earth smiles around with boundless bounty blest. 
And heaven beholds its image on his breast. Ibid. 

In these instances, though the melody invites to 
a pause ^t forsook and beholds, propriety requires 
it at self love and heaven. 

Rule VI. Whatever membef intervenes be- 
tween the nominative case and the verb is of 
the nature of a parenthesis, and must be sepa- 
rated from both of them by a short pause. 

EXAMPLES. 
I am told that many virtuous matrons,^ who formerly have 
been taught to believe that this artificial spotting of a face was 
unlawful, are now reconciled, by a ^al for their cause, to 
what they could not be prompted by a concern for their 
beauty. Jddison's Sped. N* 81. 

The member intervening between the nomina- 
tive matrons, and the verb are, may be consi- 
dered as incidental, and must therefore be sepa- 
rated from both. 

* When the Romans and Sabines were at war, and just upon 
the point of giving battle, tlie women, who were allied to both 

f2 



C8 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

of them, interposed with so many tears and entreaties, that they 
prevented the mutual slaughter which threatened both parties, 
and united them together in a firm and lasting peace. 

Jddiams Sped, N* S 1 . 

Here the member intervening between the 
nominative case women^ and the verb inierpos^d^ 
inust be separated from both by a short pause. 

RtrtE VII. Whatever member intervenes be- 
tween the verb and the accusative case, is of the 
nature of a parenthesis, and must be separated 
from both by a short pause. 

EXAMPtES. 

I knew a person who possessed the faculty of distinguishing 
flavors in so great a perfection^ that, after having tasted ten 
different kinds of tea, he would distinguish, without seeing the 
colour of it, the parti^lar sort which was offered him. 

jiddisoTCs Sped. N** 409. 

The member intervening between the verb 
distinguish, and the accusative the particular sort, 
must be separated from them by a short pause^ 

A man of a fine taste in writing, will discern, after the same 
manner, not only the general beauties and imperfections of an 
author, but discover the several ways of thinking and express- 
ing himself, which diversify him from all other authors. 

' j^ddismi, ibid. 

The member mtervening between the verb 
discern^ and'the accusative not only the general 
beauties and imperfections of an author y must be 
separated from both by a short pause. 

Rule VIII. Whatever words are put inta 
the case absolute^ must be separated from Uie 
rest by a pause 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. «» 

EXAMPLES. 

If a man borrow aueht of his neighbour, and it be hurt or 
die, the owner thereof not being with it^ he shall surely make 
it good. 

Here, the owner thereof not being xvith it, is the 
phrase called the ablative absolute, and this, 
like a parenthesis, must be separated from the 
rest of the sentence by a short pause on eagh 
$ide* 

God, from the mount ef Sinai, whose grey top 
Shall tremble, he descending, will himselt 
Jn thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets* sound. 
Ordain them laws. Milton. 

Here, he descending^ neither governs nor is go- 
verned by any other part of the sentence, and is 
said to be in the ablative absolute ; and this in- 
dependence must be marked by a short pause 
before and after the phrase. 

Rule IX. If an adverb is placed after the 
verb, and consists but of one word, it must be 
separated from what follows by a pause. 

EXAMPLE. 

He did not actpri/den%, in one of the most important aiTaira 
i>f his life, and therefore could not expect to be happy. 

' RutE X. If the adverb consists of more 
words than one, or forms what is called an ad-^ 
verbial phrase, it ought to be separated both 
from the verb and what follows, by a pause. 

EXAMPLE. 

Thus man is, by nature, directed to correct, in some measure, 
that distribution of things, which she herself would otherwise 
il^y^ made^^ Smith's Theory of Mifrd Sentimcnt^^ 

F3 



70 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Rule XI. Words or phrases in apposition, 
or when the latter only explains the former, have 
a short pause between them. 

EXAMPLE. 



•Goddess of the lyre. 



Which rules the accents of the moving spheres. 
Wilt thou, eternal Harn^ony, descend 
And join this festive train? 

Rule XII. When two substantives come 
together, and the latter, which is in the genitive 
case, consists of several words closely united 
with each other, a pause is admissible b^tweqn 
the two principal substantives. 

examples. 

We may observe, that any single circumstance of what we 
have formerly seen often raises up a whole scene of imagery, 
and awakens numberless ideas that before slept in the imagina- 
tion. SpecL N" 417. 

I do not know whether I am singular in my ppinion, but 
for my own part I would rather look upon a tree in all its 
luxuriancy, and diiT'usion of boughs and branches, than when it 
is cut and trimmed into a mathematical figure. Jb. N*' 415. 

Correct reading would admit of a pause in the 
first example at circumstance, and, in the last, ra»* 
ther at diffusipn than at luxuriancy. 

Rule XIII. Who and which, when relative 
pronouns, and that, when it stands for zvho and 
ivhich, always admit of a pause before them. 

EXAMPLES. 

A man can never be obliged to submit to any power, un- 
less he can be satisfied, who is the person, who ha§ a fight to 
exercise it. ' Locke. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 71 

To which we may add, their want of judging abilities, and 
hIso their want of opportunity to apply such a serious consi- 
deration as may let them into the true goodness and evil of 
things, which are qualities, which seldom display themselves 
to the first view. South. 

Vanity is the foundation of the most ridiculous and con- 
temptible vices, the vices of aflfect^tion and common lying ; 
follies which, if experience did not teach us hoW common 
they are, one should imagine the least spark of common sense 
would save us from. Smith's Theory of Moral Sentifnents. 

The word which, in the last example, that 
ought to have a pause before it, has one after 
it; this latter pause is certainly proper, as a 
member intervenes between which and the go- 
verning words,Nand printers never fail placing 
this last pause, but almost as uniformly neglect 
a pause before the relative in this situation, 
though the pause before will be acknowledged 
by every judicious ear to be as necessary in the 
one case as in the other. A pause before these 
relatives ought never to be omitted, as we are 
certain by this pause never to hurt the sense, 
and are sure to gain time, breath, and foresight 
to proceed. The uncertainty of printers in this 
essential pause may be guessed at, from the 
punctuation of a passage which follows that 
which I have just quoted. 

The foolish liar, -who endeavours to excite the admiration 
of the company by the relation of adventures which never had 
any existence, the important coxcomb, who gives himself airs 
ofrank and distinction w^hich he well knows he has no just 
pretensions to, are both ofthem.no doubt pleased with the ap- 
plause which they fancy they meet with. //;. p. 192. 

In this passage we only see a pause before the 
first relative ; but why that is distinguished it is 
not very easy to guess. 

This rule is of greater extent than at first ap- 
pears s for there are several words usually called 

F 4 



73 RHETORICAL GRAMMAI^. 

adverbs, which include in them the power of the 
relative pronoun *, and will therefore admit of 
a pause before them : such as zoheny tvhi/y where^ 
forty hoii)y ivherCy lohithery whether^ whence^ while, 
tilly or tintil : for when is equivalent to the time 
at which ; why or wherefore is equivalent to the 
reason for lohich ; and so of the rest. It must, 
however, be noted, that when a preposition 
comes before one of these relatives, the pause is 
before the preposition ; and that if any of these 
words are the last word of the sentence, or 
clause of a sentence, that no .pause is admitted 
before them ; as, I have read the hooky of which 
J have heard so rmieh commendation, but Iknom 
not the reason why. I have heard one of the books^^ 
much commended, but I cannot tell zvhich, &c. 

It must likewise be observed, that, if the sub- 
stantive which governs the relative, and makes 
it assume the genitive case, comes before it, no 
pause is to be placed either before whichy or the 
preposition that governs it. 

EXAMPLE. 

The passage of the Jordan is a figure of baptism, bj the 
grace of which, the new-born Christian passes from the slavery 
of sin into a state of freedom peculiar to the chosen sons of 
God. Abridgement qf the Bible» 

Rule XIV. When that is used as a causal 
conj unction, it ought always to be preceded by 
a short pause. 

EXAMPLES. 

The custom and familiarity of these tongue's do sometimes 
to far influence the expressions in these epistles^ that one may 
observe the force of the Hebrevv conjugations. Locke,. 

* See Ward's English Grammar^ 4to. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. -I$ 

There is the greater necessity for attending to 
this rule, as we so frequently find it negleqted 
in printing. For fear of crowding the line with 
points, and appearing to clog the sense to the 
eye, the ear is often defrauded of her unques- 
tionable rights. I shall give two instances, 
among a thousand, that might be brought to 
show where this is the case. 

I must therefore desire the reader to remember that, by th« 
pleasures of the imagination, I mean only such pletisares as 
arise originally from sight. Sped. N° 41 !• 

It is true, the higher nature still advances, and, by that 
means, preserves his distance and superiority in the scale of 
being ; but he knows tfuit, how high soever the station is of 
which he stands possessed at present, the inferior nature will 
at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same degree 
of glory. Sped. N"" Ml. 

In these examples, we find the incidental 
jnember succeeding the conjunction that is se- 
parated from it by a pause ; but the pause which 
ought to precede this conjunction is omitted: 
this punctuation runs through our whole typo- 
graphy, and is the more culpable, as the inser- 
tion of the pause after tluity where it is less want* 
pd than before, is more apt to mislead the reader 
>han if he saw no pause at all. 

, Rule XV. "When the adjective follows the 
substantive, and is succeeded either by another 
adjective, or words equivalent to it, which form 
what may be called a descriptive phrase, it must 
be separated from the substantive by a short 
pause. 

EXAMPLES. 
Pie was a man, learned and poh*te. 
It is a book, exquisite in its kind. 
It was a calculation, accurate to the last degree. 



74 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

I 

That no pause is to be admitted between the 
substantive and the adjective in the inverted or- 
der, when the adjective is single, or unaccom- 
panied by adjuncts, is evident by the following 
example from Pope : 

Of these the chief the care of nations own. 
And guard with anns divine the British throne. 

For the reason of this, see Elements of Elocu- 
tion, page 23. 

Those who have not considered this subject 
very attentively, will, I doubt not, imagine, that 
I have inserted above twice the number of points 
that are necessary ; but those who are better ac- 
quainted with the art, will, I flatter myself, 
agree with me that a distinct, a deliberate, and 
easy pronunciation, will find employment for 
every one of them. Much undoubtedly will de- 
pend upon the turn of voice, with which we ac- 
company these points ; and, if this is but pro- 
perly adapted, the sense will be so far from suf- 
fering by so many pauses, that it will be greatly 
improved and enforced. And this leads us to a 
consideration of one of the most important parts 
of delivery ; which is, the slide or inflexion of 
voice with which every sentence, member of a 
sentence, and even every word, is necessarily 
pronounced; without a knowledge of this it 
will be impossible to speak intelligibly of the in- 
terrogation, exclamation, and parenthesis, which 
seem distinguished from other sentences more 
by a peculiar inflexion of voice than by pausing; 
nor can accent and emphasis be completely un- 
derstood without considering them as connected 
with a certain turn or inflexion of voice ; and 
this must be the next object of our inquiry. 



I 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 75 



Audible Punctuation. 

As describing such sounds upon paper as 
have no definite terms appropriated to them, 
like those of music, is a new and difficult task, the 
reader must be requested to as nice an attention 
as possible to those sounds or inflexions of voice 
which spontaneously annex themselves to cer- 
tain forms of speech, and which, from their fa- 
miliarity, are apt to be unnoticed. If experi- 
ence were out of the question, and we were 
only acquainted with the organic formation of 
human sounds, we must necessarily distin- 
guish them into five kinds : namely. The mo- 
notone, or one sound, continuing a percepti- 
ble time in one note, which is the case with all 
musical sounds; a sound beginning low and 
sliding higher without any perceptible intervals, 
or beginning high and sliding lower in the same 
manner; which is essential to all speaking 
sounds : the two last of these may be called sim- 
ple slides or inflexions ; and these may be so 
combined as to begin with that which rises and 
ends with that which falls, or to begin with that 
which falls and ends with that which rises ; and 
if this combination of inflexion is pronounced 
with one impulse or explosion of the voice, it 
may not improperly be called the circumflex or 
compound inflexion ; and these are the only pos- 
sible modifications the human voice is susceptible 
pf. For first, if there is no turn of voice, it must 
continue in a monotone ; secondly, if the voice 
be inflected, it must be either upwards or down- 
wards, and so produce either the rising or fall- 
ing inflexion 3 thirdly, if these two be united on 



76 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

the same syllable, it can only be by beginning 
with the rising and ending with the falling in- 
flexion, or vice versd ; as any other mixture of 
these opposite inflexions is impossible. 

A writer * who seems to have taken up two of 
the distinctions of voice I have been describing, 
tells us, that the two inflexions of voice which 
accompany the pauses are, that which conveys 
the idea of continuation, and that which conveys 
the idea of completion j but nothing can be less 
satisfactory than this account of the use of these 
inflexions : for the first, which is said to imply 
continuation^ ought always to be used at the end 
of an interrogative sentence beginning with 
the verb,, and almost always at the end ot a sen- 
tence which terminates with a negative mem-t . 
ber, as is abundantly shown in Elements of Elo- 
cution, page 219 y 220, &;c. ; and for the second, 
which is said to imply completion, ^re find i% 
so often introduced where the §e|ise i§ incom- 
plete ; particularly in the series, which see here** 
after, and in those sentences where we enforce a 
concession in order to strengthen the conclu-^ 
sign, and in a thougand instances wherQ em- 
phasis occurs, that scarcely any thing can be 
more vague and uncertain than the rule laid 
down by this author. 

The truth is, nothing will enable us to adapt 
these inflexions properly, but distinguishing 
sentences into their various kinds, and consi- 
dering nicely the structure and meaning of these 
sentences, and the several distinctions to which 
these modifications of voice are liable ; which is 
^oo delicate as well as too laboa-ious a task iox 

* Enfield's Speaker, page xxvi. See also Preface to EI^t 
roents of Elocution, page viii. 



I - 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. n 

the generality of writers, and therefore it is no 
wonder we find such superficial directions as 
the bulk of our treatises on this subject abound 
in. I flatter myself I have led the way in this 
laborious task, in Elements of Elocution, to 
which the curious reader must be referred for 
full satisfaction. In the present work I purpose 
to confine myself to what may be considered as 
more immediately necessary to practice ; for 
which purpose, after explaining these turns of 
voice to the ear as accurately as possible, I shall 
endeavour to assist the ear by the eye, in com- 
prehending the several modifications of voice, 
and then attempt to apply them to the several 
sentences and parts of sentences according ta 
their different structure and meaning. 

Explanation of the Inflexions of the Voice. 

Though we" seldom hear such a variety in 
reading or speaking as the sense and the satis- 
faction of the ear demand, yet we hardly ever 
hear a pronunciation perfectly monotonous. In 
former times we might have found it in the mid- 
night pronunciation of the bell-man's verses 
at Christmas; and now, the town-cryer, as 
Shakspeare calls him, sometimes gives us. a 
specimen of the monotonous in his ^vociferous 
exordium ** This is to give notice T — the clerk of 
a court of justice also promulgates the will of 
the court by that barbarous metamorphosis of 
OyezlOytzl Hear ye ! Hear ye I into Oyesi 
Oyes! in a perfect sameness of voice. But, 
however ridiculous the monotone in speaking 
may be in the above-mentioned characters, in 
certain solemn and sublime passages in poetry 



7S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR/ 

it has a wonderful force and dignity ; and, by 
the uncommonness ofitsuse^iteven adds great- 
ly to that variety with which the ear is sp much 
delighted. 

This monotone may. be defined to be a con 
tinuation or sameness of sound upon certain 
syllables of a word, exactly like that produced 
by repeatedly striking a bell ;— such a stroke may 
be louder or softer, but continues exactly in the 
same pitch. To express this tone upon paper, 
a horizontal line may be adopted 3 such a one 
as is generally used to express a long syllable in 
verse : thus ( " ). 

The grand description of the riches of Satan's 
throne, in the beginning of Milton's second 
book of the Paradise Lost, affords us an oppor 
tunity of exemplifying the use of this tone : 

High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Indc ; 
Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
ShowVs, on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, 
Satan exalted sat. 

The rising inflexion is mat upward turn of 
the voice we generally use at the comma, or in 
asking a question beginning with a verb : as, 
Ndy say you ; did he say N6 ? This is commonly 
called a suspension of voice, and may not 
improperly be marked by the acute accent, 
.thus ( /) . 

The falling inflexion is generally used at the 
semicolon and colon ; and must necessarily 
be heard in answer to the former question. He 
did'y he saidNb. This inflexion, in a lower tone 
of voice, is adopted at the end of almost every 
sentence, except the definite question, or 
that which begins with the verb. To express 



I * • 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. , 79 

I 

this inflexion the grave accent seems adapted : 
thus (^ ). 

The rising circumflex begins with the fall- 
ing inflexion, and ends with the rising upon the 
same syllable, and seems as it were to twist the 
voice upwards. This inflexion may be exem- 
plified by the drawling tone we give to some 
words spoken ironically; as the word ClodiuSy 
in Cicero's Oration for Milo. This turn of the 
voice is marked in this manner (v). 

But it is foolish in us to compare Drusus, Afncanus, and 
ourselves, with Clodius ; all our other calamities were tole- 
rable, but no one can patiently bear the death of Clodius. 

The falling circumflex begins with the rising 
inflexion, and ends with the falling upon the 
same syllable, and seems to twist the voide 
downwards. This inflexion is generally used to 
express reproach; and may be exemplified by 
the drawling tone we hear on the word you, in 
Hamlet's answer to his mother, wh© says — 

Queen, Hamlet, you have your father much offended. 
Hamlet, Madam, yoix ha^ my father much offen4ed. 

This turn of thp voice may be marked by the 
common circumflex : thus (a). 

Both these circumflex inflexions may be ex- 
emplified in the word so^ in a speech of the 
Clown in Shakspeare's As You Like It. 

I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel ; 
but when the parties were met themselves, one of them 
thought but of an if; as if you so, then! said so ; and they 
shook hands and were sworn ::jrothers. 

The slightest attention to those turns of voice 
on the words so, which every one who has the 
least idea of comic humour must necessarily 



80 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

adopt in reading ^ this passage, will stjfflcientljr 
exemplify the existence and utility of these two 
circumflexes. 

These five modifications of the voice may be 
called absolute- as they are the only possible 
ways of varying it so as to make one mode es- 
sentially different from the other. High and 
I0W3 loud and soft, quick and slow, which may 
accompany them, may be called comparative 
modifications, as what is high in one. case may 
be low in another, and so of the rest. 

Explanation of Plate I. 

By the foregoing analysis of: the voice, we 
perceive it is divisible into two simple in- 
flexions ; the rising and falling inflexion ; and 
each of these again is divisible into two sorts of 
the same kind. The rising inflexion is divisible 
into that which marks a pause where the mem- 
bers are intimately connected in sense, (as at the 
Vfoxdi satisfactorily yyH"" \ .) and that where they 
terminate in a question (as at N"* I. on the word 
No) J in both which places the inflexion of voice 
is exactly the same, but should be somewhat 
higher and more continued at^the note of inter- 
rogation, than at the comma. The falling in* 
flexion is likewise divisible into that which 
marks a member containing perfect sense not 
necessarily connected with what follows (as 
N^ I. at the semicolon at did; and at N** IV. at 
the colon at commandments) ; and that which 
marks the close of a period (at N^ IV. at man) : 
these two are essentially the same inflexion, 
and differ only as they are pronounced in a 
higher or a lower tone,*— the former terminating 




RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 81 

the members at did. and commandments, in a 
middle or higher tone ; and the latter, after a 
gradual fall of voice upon' the preceding words, 
sinks into a lower tone upon the word man. 

The two circumflexes, N° VI, and N° VII. 
fall and raise, and raise and fall the voice upon 
the same syllable, in which operation the vowel 
seems to be considerably extended : for which 
reason, in the rising circumflex, N** VI. I have 
extended the vowel o by doubling it, and giving 
the £rst part of the vowel to the falling, and the 
last to the rising inflexion. In the other ekam- 
ple, N** VII. i/ou, being a diphthong, admits of a 
double sound, exactly equivalent to the letter u, 
which, being analysed, is no more than ye oo, 
pronounced as closely together as possible (See 
Critical Pronouncing Dictionary in the. Princi- 
ples, N° 39,* 171, and N° 8. in the notes) ; and 
therefore, if wCj-i^^ffht be permitted to violate 
spelling for the,jj^e of conveying the sound, 
the first part of th.^ word might be pronounced 
ye, with the rising inflexion, and the last part 
likQ 00, with the falling. 

In this exhibition of the several inflexions ot 
the voice to the eye, we have an opportunity ol 
observing the true nature of accent. The ac- 
cented syllable, it may be observed, is always 
louder than any other either before or after it ; 
and when we pronounce the word with the fall- 
ing inflexion, the accented syllable is higher as 
well as louder than either the preceding or 
succeeding syllables -, as in the word satisfdctory ^ 
N° III. But when we pronounce this word with 
the rising inflexion, as in N'' II. though it is 
louder and higher than the two first syllables, it 
is certainly lower than the three last. Did he 



is RHETORKiAL GRAMMAR. 

ans^rer satufdctorily ? Those who wish to sfec 
a more minute investigation of the nature of ac- 
cenfy may consult Elements of Elocution, l^rt 
II. page 183. 

* * 

The Afferent States ^the Voice. 

After the foregoing analysis of the voice 
into its several modifications or inflexions, we' 
may take occasion to ^ive a sketch df those states 
or varieties of which it is susceptible in other re- 
spects. Besides the inflexions which have been 
just enumerated, the only varieties of which the 
voice is capable, independent of passion, axe^ 
tiighy lozv; tondy soft; and these, as they suc- 
ceed each other in a more or less rapid pronun- 
ciation, may be either quick or slow. The terms 
forcible and feeble, which are certainly not 
without ideas to which th«y are appropriated, 
seem to be severally a comprand of two of these 
simple states;, that is/(;rce> se^iiis to be loudness 
and quickness, either in a high or a Iqw tone ; 
znd feebleness seems to be softness and sJowness, 
either in a hi^h or a low tone. This, however, I 
wish to submit to the consideration of the philo- 
sophical musician. As to the tones of the pas- 
sions, which are so many and various, these, in 
the opinion of one of the best judges in the king- 
dom, are qualities of sound, occasioned by cer- 
tain vibrations of the organs of speech, inde- 
pendent on high, low, loud, soft, quick, or sJow, 
which last may not improperly be called different 
quantities of sound. 

It may, perhaps, not be unworthy of observa- 
tion to consider the almost unbounded variety 
which these principles produce by a different 



RHEtORICAt GRAMMAR. SS 

combination with each other. The different 
quantities of sound, as these states of the voice 
may be called, may be combined so as to form 
new varieties by uniting with any other that is 
ttot opposite to it. Thus high may be combined 
with either loud or soft, quick or slow ; that isi 
a high note may be sounded either in a loud ot 
a sort tone ; and a low note may be sounded 
either in a loud or a soft tone also -, and each of 
these combinations may succeed each other 
more swiftly or slowly. While forcible seems 
16 imply a degree of loudness and swiftness, and 
feeble a degree of softness and slowness, either 
in a high or a low tone. This combination may, 
perhaps, be mor^ easily conceived by classing 
these different quantities in contrast with each 
other. 

High, loud, quick, {'Z\^:Z^^!\S: '"^*^"'^''' 
Low, soft, slow, {*^'r^,S'a:d tW"''' "' '^"' " 

The different combinations of these states may 

be thus represented : 

High, loud, quick Low, loud, quick 

High, foud, sfow Low, loud, slow 

Htgbi soft, quick Low, sofl, auick 

High, soft, slow. Low, soft, slow. 

When these states of the voice are combined 
with the five modifications of voice above-men- 
tioned, the varieties become exceedingly nume- 
rous, but far from incalculable. Pernaps they 
may arise (for 1 leave it to arithmeticians to rec- 
kon the exact number) to that number into which 
the ancients distinguished the notes of music ; 
which, if I remember right, were about two 
hundred. 

g2 



96 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

in the precepts and doctrines of philosophy, by reason of the 
great character both of your instructor and the city ; one of 
which can furnish you with knowledge, and the other with 
examples : yet, as I always to my advantage joined the Latin 
tongue with the Greek, and I have done it not only in oratory, 
but likewise in philosophy ; I think you ought to oo the same, 
that you may be ecjually conversant in both languages. 

Cicero'a Ojfices, book i. chap. 1 . 

These sentences begin with the concessive 
fconjunction although^ and have their correspon'r 
dent conjunction yet; and these conjunctions 
form the two principal constructive members. 
The words him^ and examples^ therefore, at the 
end of the first members, must have the rising 
inflexion, and here must be the long pause. 

This rule ought to be particularly attended tq 
in reading verse. Many of Milton^s similesjj 
> commencmg with the conjunction as, have the 
first member so enormoiisly long, that the reader 
is often tempted to drop his voice before he 
comes to the member beginning with the con^ 
junction so, though nothing can be more certain 
than that such a fall of the voice is diametrically 
opposite to the ^ense. 

Thus, in that beautiful description of the af-^ 
fected indignation of Satan, at tne command of ' 
God to abstain from eating of the tree of life : 

She scarce had said^ tliough brief, when now more bold 
The tempter (but with show of zeal and love 
To man, and indignation at his wrong) 
New part puts on, and as to passion mov'd 
Fluctuates disturbed, yet comely, and in act 
Rais'd as of §ome great matter to begin. 
As when of old some orator renown 4 
In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence 
Flourish'd, since mute, to some great cause address'd,^ 
SlQod in himself collected, while each part. 
Motion^ each act won a.udience^ ere the tongue 



RHETORICAL GRAMAMR. S7 

Sometimes in height began, as no delay 
Of preface brooking through his zeal of right : 
So standing, moving, or to height up grown. 
The tempter all impassioned thus began. 

Par. Loit, b. ix. v. 66^. 

In this passage, if we do not make a long 
pause with the rising inflexion on the word rights 
we utterly destroy the sense. 

In the same manner we may observe some of 
Homer's similes to extend to such a length be- 
fore the Application of them to the object illus- 
trated, that the printer, and perhaps Mr. Pope 
himself, has sometimes concluded the first part 
with a full stop. 

Direct Period, with only one Conjunction. 

Rule II. Every direct period, consisting of 
two principal constructive parts, and having 
only tne first part commence with a conjunction, 
requires the rising inflexion and long pause at 
the end of this part. 

EXAMPLES. 

As in my speculations I have endeavoured to extingui^^ 
passion and prejudice, I am still desirous of doing some good 
in this particular. Spectator, 

Here the sentence divides itself into two cor- 
respondent parts at pn?;i/rf/c^ ; and as the word so 
is understood before the words / am, they must 
be preceded by the long pause and rising in- 
.flexion. 

If impudence prevailed as much in the Forum and courts of 
justice, as insolence does in the country and places of less re- 
sort; Attlus Caecina would submit as much to the impudence 
of Sextus ^butius in this cause, as be did before to his inso- 
knce when assaulted by him. 

g4 



is RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

If I have any genius, which I am sensible can be but very 
small ; or any readiness in speaking, iti which I do not deny 
but I h^ive been much conversant; or any skill in oratory, from 
an acquaintance with the best arts, to which I confess I have 
been always inclined : no one has a better right to demand of 
m? the fruit of all these things than (his Aulus Licisius. 

Cicero* s Oration for Archids. 

If after surveying the whole earth at once, and the several 
planets that lie within its neighbourhood; we contemplate 
those wide fields of sether, that reach in height as far as from 
Saturn to the fixed stars, and run abroad, almost to an infini- 
tude ; our imagination finds its capacity filled with so immense 
a prospect, and puts itself upon the stretch to comprehend it. 

Addison's Spectator, N° 428. 

In the first of these examples, the first part of 
the sentence ends at resort, and the second be- 
gins at Aldus Ccecina. In the second sentence, 
the first part ends at inclined, and the second be- 
gins at no one ; and in- the third, the first part 
.ends at infinitude,' and the second begins at our ; 
between these words, therefore, in each sen- 
tence, must be inserted the long pause and rising 
inflexion. 

All these sentences commence with a con- 
junction, and may be said to have a corre- 
spondent conjunction commencing the second 
part of the sentence, not expressed but under- 
stood. In the first sentence commencing with 
if, then IS understood at the beginning of the se- 
cond part; the sense of this conjunctive adverb 
then may be plainly perceived to exist by insert- 
ing in it the sentence, and observing its suit- 
ableness when expressed. 

If impudence prevailed as much in the Forum and courts of 
justice, a^ insolence does in the country and places of less re- 
sort, then Aulus Caecina would submit as much to the impu- 
dence of Sextus JEbutius in this cause, as he did before to his 
insolence when assaulted by him. 



RHEtORIGAL GRAMMAR. 89 

The same insertion of the word then might be 
made in the two last examples commencing 
with ify and the same suitableness would ap- 
pear ; for though correct and animated language 
tends to suppress as much as possible the 
words that are so implied in the sense as to 
make it unnecessary to express them, yet if, 
when inserted, they are suitable to the sense, it 
is a proof the structure of the sentence is per- 
fectly the same, whether these superfluous words 
are expressed or not. 

The exception to this rule is when the em- 
phatical word in the conditional part of the sen- 
tence is in direct opposition to another word in 
the conclusion, and a concession is implied in 
the former, in order to strengthen the argument 
in the latter ; for in this case the middle of the 
sentence has the falling, and the latter member 
the rising inflexion. 

EXAMPLES. 

If we have no regard for religion in yoiith, we ought to have 
soioe regard for it in age. • 

If we have no regard for our own character we ought to 
have 'some regard for the character of others. 

In these examples, we find the words youth 
and own character, haVe the falling inflexion, and 
both periods end with the rising inflexion ; but 
if these sentences had been formed so as to make 
the latter member a mere inference from, or 
consequence of, the" former, the general rule 
would have taken place, and the first emphatic 
word would have had the rising, and the last the 
falling inflexion. 



90 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

EXAMPLES. 

If we have no regao^ for religion in youth, we. have seldom 
any regard for it in age. 

If we have no regard for our 6wn character, it can scarcely 
be expected that we should have any regard for th^ character 
of others. 

Rule III. Direct periods, which commence 
with participles to the present tense, consist of 
two parts; between which must be inserted the 
long pause and rising inflexion* 

EXAMPLE. 

Having already shown how the fancy is affected by the 
works of nature, and afterwards considered in general both 
the works of nature and of art, how they mutually assist and 
con4>lete each other, in forming such scenes and prospects as 
are apt to delight the mind of the beholder; I shall in this pa- 
per throw together some reflections on that particular aft,> 
which has a more immediate tendency than any other, to pro- 
duce those primary pleasures of the imagination, which have 
hitherto been the subject of this discourse. Spect. N** 415. 

The sense is suspended in this sentence till 
the word beholder, and here is to be placed the 
long pause and rising inflexion ; in this place 
also it is evident, the word nozv might be insert- 
ed in perfect conformity to the sense. 

Inverted Period. 

Rule I. Every period, where the first part 
forms perfect sense by itself, but is modified or 
determined in its signification by the latter, has 
the rising inflexion and long pause between 
these parts as in the direct period. 

EXAMPLES, 

Gratian very often recommends the fine taste, as the utmost 
perfection of an accompli^ed man. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. n 

In this sentence the first member ending at 
taste forms perfect sense, but is qualified by the 
last; for Gratian is not said simply to recom- 
mend the fine taste, but to recommend it in a 
certain way ; that is, as the utmost perfection of 
an accomplished man. The same may- be ob- 
served of the following sentence : 

Persons of good taste expect to be pleased, at the same time 
they are informed. 

Here perfect sense is formed at pleased; but it 
is not meant that persons of good taste are pleas- 
ed in general, but with reference to the time 
when they are informed; the words taste and 
pleasedy therefore, in these sentences, we must 
pronounce with the rising inflexion, and accom- 
pany this inflexion with a pause ; for the same 
jeasons, the same pause and inflexion must 
precede the word though in the following ex- 
ample : 

I can desire to perceive those things that God has prepared 
for those that love him, though they be such as eye had not 
seen, ear heard^ nor hath it ^entered into the heart of man to 
iponceive, Locke. 

lOOSE SENTENCE, 

A loose sentence has been shown to consist 
of a period, either direct or inverted, and an ad- 
ditional member which does not modify it ; or, 
in othe^ words, a loose sentence is a member 
containing perfect sense by itself, followed by 
some other member or members, which do not 
restrain or qualify its signification. According 
to this definition, a loose sentence must have 
that member which forms perfect sense detach- 
ed from those that follow, by a long pause and 
the falling inflexion. 



92 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

As in speaking, the ear seizes every occasion 
of varying the tone of voice, which the sense 
will permit ; so in reading, we ought as much as 
possible to imitate the variety or speaking, by 
taking every opportunity of altering the voice in 
correspondence with the sense : the most gene- 
ral fault of printers*, is to mark those members 
of loose sentences, which form perfect sense, 
with a comma, instead of a semicolon, or colon: 
and a similar, as well as the most common fault 
of readers, is to suspend the voice at the end of 
these members, and so to rtm the sense of one 
member into another; by this means, the sense 
is obscured, and a monotony is produced, in- 

* The grand defect of the points is, that only two of them, 
the comma and period, necessarily mark a continuation and 
completion of sense : the semicolon and colon, by being some- 
times placed after complete sense, and sometimes where the 
sense continues, are very fallacious guides, and often lead the 
reader to an improper turn of voice. If to the colon and se- 
micolon were annexed a mark to determine whether the sense 
were complete or not, it must certainly be of the greatest as- 
sistance to the reader, as he would naturally accompany it 
with a turn of voice, which would indicate the completeness or 
incompleteness of the sense, independent on the time; and 
such a mark seems one of the great desiderata of punctuation. 
Iknow it may be said that the completeness or incompleteness 
of the sense is of itself a sufficient guide, without any points at 
all : yes, it may be answered, but without the gift of prophecy 
we are not always able to determine at sight whether the sense 
is complete or not ; and sometimes even when we have the 
whole sentence in view, it is the punctuation only that deter- 
mines whether the member of a sentence belongs to what goes 
before, or to what follows. The intention of the points is, in 
the first place, to fix and determine the sense when it might 
otherwise be doubtful; and, in the next place, to apprise the 
reader of the sense of part of a sentence before he has seen the 
whole. A mark, therefore, which accomplishes this purpose, 
must unquestionably be of the utmost importance to the art of 
reading. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 93 

Stead of that distinctness and variety, which 
arises from pronouncing these members with 
such an inflexion of voice as marks a certain 
portion of perfect sense, not immediately con- 
nected with what follows; for as a member of 
this kind does not depend for its sense on the 
following member, it. ought to be pronounced in 
such a manner, as to show its independence on 
the succeeding member, and its dependence on 
the period, as forming but a part of it. 

In order to convey precisely the import of 
these members, it is necessary to pronounce 
them with the falling inflexion, without suflfer- 
ing the voice to fall gradually as at a period ; by 
which means the pause becomes different from 
the mere comma, which suspends the voice, and 
marks immediate dependence on what follows; 
and from the period, which marks not only an 
independence on what foUovv^s, but an exclusion 
of whatever may follow, and therefore drops the 
voice as at a conclusion. An example will 
assist us in comprehending this important in- 
flexion in reading : 

AH superiority and pre-eminence that one man can have 
over another, may be reduced to the notion of quality, which, 
considered at large, is either tliat of fortune, body, or mind. 
The first is that which consists in birth, title, or righes ; and is 
the most foreign to our natures, and what we can the least call 
our own, of any of the three kinds of quahty. 

Spectator, N° 219. 

In the first part of this sentence the falling 
inflexion takes place on the word quality ; for 
this member we find contains perfect sense, and 
the succeeding members are not necessarily con- 
nected with it ; the same inflexion takes place 
in the next member on the word riches ; which. 



96 RHETOJIICAL GRAMMAR. 

The Interrogation. 

It must be first observed, that, with respect to 
pronunciation, all questions may be divided inta 
two classes ; namely, into such as are Formed by 
the interrogative pronouns or adverbs, and into 
such as are formed only by an inversion of the 
common arrangement of the words*; the first 
with respect to mflexion of voice, except in some 
few cases, may be considered as purely declara- 
tive; and like declarative sentences, they re- 
quire the falling inflexion at the. end : and the 
last, with some few exceptions, . require the 
rising inflexion of voice on the last wprd ; and 
it is this rising inflexion at the end which di- 
stinguishes them from almost every other species 
of sentence :— of both these in their order. 

The indefinite Question, or the Question with the 

Interrogative Words. 

Rule I. When an interrogative sentence 
commences with any of the interrogative pro- 
nouns or adverbs, with respect to inflexion, elcr 
vation, or depression of voice, it is pronounced 
exactly like a declarative sentence. 

EXAMPLES. 

ttow can he exalt his thoughts to any thing great and noble, 
who only believes that, aftisr a short turn on the stage of this 
world, he is to sink into oblivion, and to lose his consciousness 
for ^ver ? Spectator, N ^ 2 1 0. 

As an illustration of the rule, .we need only 
alter two or three of the words to reduce it to a^ 

* Mr. Harris calls the former of these questions indefinite, 
and the latter definite ; as these may be answered by yes or no^ 
while those often require a whole sentence to answer them. 
See f/erme^, b. i. p. 151» 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR; 97 

declarative sentence ; and we shall find the in- 
flexion, elevation, and depifession of voice oa 
every part of it the same. 

He cannot exalt his thoughts to any thing great or noble^ 
because he only beKeves that, after a short turn on the stdge of 
this world, he is to sink into oblivion, and to lose his consci* . 
oushess for ^Ver. 

Here we perceive, that the two sentences, 
though one is an interrogation, and the other a 
declaration, end both with the same inflexion 
of voice, and that\hQ falling inflexion ; but if we 
convert these words into an interrogation, by 
leaving out the interrogative word, we shall 
soon perceive the difference. 

Can he exalt his thoughts to any thing great or noble, who 
only believes that, after a short turn qi\ the stage of this world, 
he is to sink into oblivion, and to lose his consciousness for 
€ver ? 

In pronouncing this sentence with propriety, 
we find the voice slide upwards on the last 
^yvrords, contrary to the inflexion it takes in the 
two former examples. If grammarians, there- 
fore, by the elevation of voice, which they attri- 
bute to the question, mean the rising inflexion, 
their rule, with some few exceptions, is true 
only of questions formed without the interro- 

fative words 5 for the others, though they may 
ave a force and loudness on the last words, 
if they happen to be emphatical, have no more 
of that distinctive inflexion which is peculiar to 
the former kind of interrogation, than if they 
were no questions at all. I-et us take another 
example : — Why should not a female character be 
as ridiculous in a many as a male character in one^ 
of theftmale sex? Here the voice is no more 

H 



9S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

elevated at the end than if I were to say— i# 
female character is just as ridiculous in a man, as 
a male character in one of the female sex : but if 
I say, Is not a female character as ridiculous in a 
man^ as a male character in one of the female sex? 
Here not only the emphasis, but the rising in- 
flexion is on the last words > essentially different 
from the inflexion on these words in the first 
question, Why should not a female character be as 
ridiculous in a man, as a male character in one cf 
the female sex? We may presume, therefore, that 
it is the emphasis, witn which these questions 
sometimes terminate, that has led the generality 
of grammarians, to conclude, that all questions 
terminate in an elevation of voice, and so to 
confound that essential difference there is be- 
tween a question formed with^ and withotit the 
interrogative words. 

r 

Rule II. Interrogative sentences commenc* 
ing with interrogative words, and consisting of 
members in a series depending necessarily on 
each other for sense, are to "be pronounced as a 
series of members of the same kind in a decla- 
rative sentence. See Series, page 112. 

EXAMPLES. 

From whence can he produce such cogent exfaortatioiis (o> 

tiie practice of every virtue, such ardent excitements to piet/ 
atid devotion, and such assistance to attain them, as those 
wh^ch are to be tnet wkh throughout every page of these in- 
imitaJile writmgs ? Jenj/iis Fieto qfthe Internal EcU. p.^4Jb« 

Where, amidst the dark clouds of pagan philosophy, can 
he show OS fwich a dear prospect <if » ttfture stsMe, the (miDor« 
tiJky of the Wiul, ^e resurrection ^ the d^ad« and the general 
jii^gmeiat, as ia St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthi^s? 

Ibid, p. 4(V 



RttETORrdAt GRAMMAR. gd 

The d^nit^ ^tuestiony or the Question v)ithout the 

interrogatroe Wards. 

Rule I. When interrogative sentences are 
formed without the interrogative words, the last 
word must have the rising inflexion. If there 
be an emphatical word in the last member, fol- 
lowed by several words depending on it, which 
conclude the sentence, lixth the emphatical 
word and the concluding words are to be pro- 
nounced with the rising inflexion*: thus the 
words making on^, and caufe qfthe shipwreck, itt 
the two following examples, have all the rising 
inflexion. 

EXAMPLES. 
Would it not employ a beau prettily enough, if, instead of 
etemally playing with his' gnuff-boi^^ be spent lonoe pa^rt of his 
sime in m^ikuig one ? spectator, N** 49* 

If the owner of a ve§a^I had fitt^ it put with everjir-thing 
tiQcessary, and prpvided to the utmost of his pow^r against th# 
dangers of the sea, and that a storm should afterwards ^ise 
and break the masts, would any one in that case accuse him of 
living the ciuse of the shipwreck ? 

J)€tnf)^h^n(9 on tlifi Crown, ReWn. 

Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious beings 
for so m^an 9, purpose ? Can he delight in the production of 
such abortive intelligencies, such shprt-lived rei^SQnable be- 
ings ? Would he give us talents that are not to be exerted, ca- 
pacities that are not to be gratified ? Spectator, N*" 1 1 !• 

It is said of Diogenes, that meeting a young man who was 
going to a feast, he took him up in the street andxarried him 
home to his friends as one who was running into imminent dan- 
ger, had he Qot prevented him. What would that philosopher 
have said had he been present at |hQ gl\^ttO£iy of d^modorn 
meal ? 



* That U, the word one is to be pronounced as if it were an 
unaccented syllable of the word making, and as if written 
wakingwiei See I7jc different Farces of Emphatical fVords* 

H 2 



loo RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Would not he have thought the master of a family mad, andf 
h^ve begged his servants to tie doun his hands, had he seen 
him devour fowl, fish, and flesh ; swallow oil and vinegar, 
wines and spices ; throw down sallads of twenty different 
herbs, sauces of a hundred ingredients, collections and fruits 
of numberless sweets and flavours? Spectator , N° 195* 

Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human 
nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a survey 
of its inhabitants, what wouW his notions of us b^? Would ' 
not he think that we are a species of beings, made for quite 
different ends and purposes than what we really iie ? Must 
not he imagine that we were placed in this world to get riches 
and honours ? Woulcf not he think that it was our duty to toil 
after wealth; and station, and title ? Nay, would not he believe 
Vre were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, 
and ei^oined to pursue our pleasures under pain of d^nnation? 
He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a. 
scheme of duties quite opposite to those which are indeed pre- 
scribed to us. Ibid, N** 575, 

In these examples we find, that, however va- 
riously the voice may employ itself oh the rest 
of the sentence, the concluding words on the 
last member must necessarily be suspended with 
the rising inflexion. The only exception to.this 
rule is, when these interrogative sentences are 
connected by the disjunctive or; for in that case 
the sentence or sentences that succeed the con- 
junction are pronounced as if they were formed 
by the interrogative words, or were merely de- 
clarative. 

Rule II. When interrogative sentences, con- 
nected by the disjunctive or, succeed each other, 
the first ends with the rising, and the rest with 
the falling inflexion. 

-EXAMPLES. 

Shall we in your person crown the audior of the public cala- 
mities, or shall we destroy him ? 

J£schinc9 en the Crozvn^ RoUin^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. loi 

; Is ttie goodness^ or wlsdora^ of the divine Being, more mani* 
Jfested in this his proceedings. Spectator, N** 51'9. 



Exclamation. 

This note is appropriated by grammarians to 
indicate that some passion or emotion is con- 
tained in the words to which it is annexed, and 
it may, therefore, be looked upon as essentially 
distinct from the rest of the points; the office of 
which is <x>mmonly supposed to be, that of fix- 
ing OT determining the sense only. Whether a 
point that indicates passion or emotion, without 
•determining what emotion or passion is meant, 
or if we had points expressive of every passion 
or emotion, whether this would in common 
usage more assist or embarrass the elocution of 
the reader, I shall not at present attempt to de-* 
cide; but when this point is applied to sen- 
tences, which from their form might be sup- 
posed to te merely interrogative, and yet really 
imply wonder, surprise, or astonishment ; when 
this use, I say, is made of the note of exclama- 
tion, it must be confessed to be of no small im- 
portance in reading, and very justly deserve a 
* place in grammaticai punctuation. 

Thus the sentence. How mysterious are the 
-ways of Providence ! which naturally adopts the 
exclamation, may, by a speaker who defies 
these mysteries^, become a question, by laying a 
stress on the word hoWy and subjoining the note 
of interrogation; as. How mysterious are the 
ways of Providence ? Expressing our gratitude, 
we may cry out with rapture. What have you done 
\for me I or. we may use the very same words 
-contemptuously to inquire. What have you doji^ 

H 3 



}02 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

for me? intimating that iiothmg has been dofle ; 
the very different import of these sentences, as 
they are differently pointed, sufficiently show the 
utility of the note of exclamation. 

It may not be entirely useless to take notice 
of a common error of grammarians ; which is, 
that both this point and th^ interrogation re- 
quire an elevation. of voice* The inflexion of 
voice proper to one species of -question, which, 
it is probable, grammarians may have mistaken 
for an elevation of voice, it is presumed has been 
"fully explained under that article : by the eleva- 
tion of voice they impute to this point, it is not 
unlikelv that they mean the pathos or energy 
with which we usually express passion or emo- 
tion, but which is by no means inseparably 
connected with elevation of voice : were we 
even to suppose, that all passion or emotion ne- 
cessarily assumes a louder tone, it must still be 
acknowledged this is very different from a higher 
tone of voice, and therefore that the common 
rule is very fallacious and inaccurate. 

The truth is, the expression of passion or emo- 
tion consists in giving a distinct and specific 
quality to the sounds we use, rather than in in- 
' creasing or diminishing their quantity, or in giv- 
ing this quantity any local direction upwards 
or downwards: understanding the import of a 
sentence, and expressing that sentence with pas- 
sion or emotion, are things as distinct as the head 
and the heart : this point, therefore, though use- 
ful to .distinguish interrogation from emotion, is 
as different from the rest of the points as Gram- 
mar is from Rhetoric ; and whatever may be the 
tone. of voice proper to the note of exclamation, 
it is certain the inflexions it requires are exactly 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- lOS 

the same as the rest of the points ; that is, if 
the exclamation point is placed after a member 
that would have the rising inflexion in another 
sentence, it ought to have the rising in this ; if 
after a member that would have the falling in- 
flexion, the exclamation ought to have the fall- 
ing inflexion likewise/ 

An instance that the exclamation requires no 
particular inflexion of voice may be seen in the 
following speech of Gracchus, quoted by Cicero, 
and inserted in the Spectator^ N° 541. 

Whither shall I ti^rn ? Wretch that t am ? to what place 
shall I bet£^ke myself? Shall I go to the Capitol ?. Alas ! it is 
t>verfiowed with my brother's blood ! Or shall I retire to my 
house? yet there I behold ray mother plunged in misery, weep- 
ing, and despairing ! 

Every distinct portion of this passage may be 
truly said to be an exclamation ; and yet we find 
in reading it, though it can scarcely be pronounc* 
ed with too much emotion, the inflexions of voice 
are the same as if pronounced without any emo- 
tion at all : that is, the portion, Whither shall I 
turuy terminates like a question with the inter- 
rogative word, with the falling inflexion. The 
member. Wretch that I am^ like a member form- 
ing incomplete sense, with the risiixg inflexion; 
the question without the interrogative word, 
Shall I go to the Capitol^ with the rising in- 
flexion ; Alas ! it is overflowed zvith my brother* s 
bloody with the falling ; the question commenc- 
ing with the disjunctive or^ Or shall I retire to 
my house, with the falling inflexion, but in a 
lower tone of voice. 

Thus we see how vague, and indefinite are the 
general rules for reading this point, for want of 
distinguishing high and low tones of voice from 

H 4 



10* RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

those upward and downward slides, which may 
be in any note of the voice, and which, from 
their radical difference, form the most marking 
differences in pronunciation. 

Parenthesis. 

' The parenthesis is defined by our excellent 
grammarian. Dr. Lowth, to be a member of a 
sentence inserted in the body of a sentence, 
which member is neither necessary to the sense, 
nor at all affects the construction. He observes 
also, that, in reading, or speaking, it ought to 
have a moderate depression of the voice, and a 
pause greater than a comma. 

The real nature of the parenthesis once under- 
stood, we are at no loss for the true manner of 
delivering it. The tone of voice ought to be in- 
terrupted, as it were, by something unforeseen ; 
and, after a pause, the parenthesis should be 
pronounced in a lower tone of voice, at the end 
of which, after another pause, the higher tone of 
voice, which was interrupted, should be re- 
sumed, that the connexion between the former 
and latter part of the interrupted sentence may 
be restored. It may be observed too, that, in 
order to preserve the integrity of the principal 
members, the parenthesis ought not only to be 
pronounced in a lower tone, but a degree swifter 
than the rest of the period, as this still better 
preserves the broken sense, and distinguishes 
the explanation from the text. For that this is 
always the case in conversation, we can be un- 
der no doubt, when we consider that whatever 
is supposed to make our auditors wait, gives 
an impulse to the tongue, in order to relieve 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- los 

them, as soon as possible, from the suspense of 
an occasional and unexpected interruption. 

EXAMPLES. 

Kotwithstanding all this care of Cicero, history informs us, 
that MarcUs proved a mere blockhead ; and that natare (who 
it seems was even with the son for her prodigah'ty to the fa- 
ther) rendered him incapable of improving, by all the rules of 
eloquence, the precepts of philosophy, his own endeavours^ 
and the most reined conversation in Athens. Spect. N' 307. 

Natural historians observe (for whilst I am in the country I 
must fetch my allusions from thence) that only the male birds 
have voices ; that their songs begin a little before breeding- 
time, and end a little after. Jbid. N** 128. 

Dr. Clarke has observed, that Honrier is more perspicuous 
than any other author ; but if he is so (which yet may be que:*- 
tioned) the perspicuity arises from his subject, and not from the 
language itself in which he writes. IVard's Grammar, p. 292. 

The many letters which come to me from person^ of the 
best sense in both sexes (for I may pronounce their characters 
from their way of writing) do not a little encourage me in th« 
prosecution of this my undertaking. Spect, N° 124. 

It is this sense which furnishes the imagination with its 
ideas ; so that by the pleasures of the imagination or fancy 
(which I shall lise promiscuously) I here mean such as arise 
from visible objects. Jbid. N"* 411. 

We sometimes meet, in books very respecta- 
bly printed, with the parenthesis marked where 
there ought to be only commas. We have an 
instance of this in Hannah More!s Strictures 
on Modern Female Education : where, describ- 
ing in the most picturesque and truly satyric 
style, the confusion, indifference, and insinceri-*- 
ty which reigns at routs and drumsv, she says, 
♦' He would hear the same stated phrases inter- 
rupted, not answered by the same stated re- 
plies ; the unfinished sentence ' driven ad- 
^^ verse to the winds' by pressing multitudes ; 



4C 

4C 



10« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 









€4 
€€ 



the same warm regret mutually exchanged 

by two friends (who had been expressly d^- 
*' nied to each other all the winter) that they bad 

not met before ; the same soft and smiling sor- 

row at being torn away from each other now ; 
" the same anxiety to renew the meeting, with 

perhaps the same secret resolution to avoid 

it/' Vol. ii. p. 180. 

In this beautiful description, the words mark- 
ed with the parenthesis belong essentially to Ae 
thought, ana therefore ought only to have been 
included between commas. 

The same may be observed of a very long in- 
tervening member, in a beautiful description of 
intemperance in eating, by Pope. 

The stomach (cramm'd from ev'ry dish/ 
A tomb of boird and roast, and flesh and fish, 
Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and acid jar; 
And all the man is one intestine war) 
Remembers oft the school-boy's simple fare. 
The temp'rate sleeps, and spirits light as' air. 

Pope's Imitation of Harace, Sat. ii. 

This insertion of a parenthesis w^here it ought 
not to be, is by no means so common z. fault as 
that of omitting it where it ought to be inserted. 
Where it depends on nice distinctions, which is 
sometimes the case, the fault is pardonable, but 
not in such as have been here taken notice of. 



The Commencement. 



That we should begin to pronounce what- 
ever we read a little more deliberately, than 
when we have entered on the subject, is an ob- 
servation that few will dissent from. Most of 



RHETOiaCAL GRAMMAR. im 

cur punctuists will admit of a pause after a no 
minative^ when it consists of a long member of 
a sentdnce, but none have taken notice of a pause 
^t the beginoing of every sentence, which may 
very properly take place after a single word, 
when the sentence begins with a proper name, 
or a word that stands for the subject of the dis- 
course. Thus, in Mr. Addison's description of 
Good-nature^ Discretion, and Cheerfulness: 

Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation than wit, - 
and gives a certain air to the countenance, which is more ami- 
able than beauty. Spectator, N* 109. 

Discretion docs not only show it«elf in words, but in all the 
circumstances of action ; and is like an under-agent of Provi- 
dence^ to guide and direct us in the ordinary concerns of life* 

Jbid. N° 225. 

Cheerfulness bears the same friendly regard to the mind ss 
to the body : it banishes all anxious care and discontents, soothes 
and composes the passions, and keeps the soul in a perpetual 
calm. Ibid, N° 387. 

In these examples we shall find it very ptoper 
to pause after the first word in every sentoice, 
that the attention may be the better fixed upon 
what forms the subject of them. This rule, 
however, is not confined to such words as form 
the subject of a sentence. Wherever a word of 
importance commences a sentence, it ought to be 
distinguished in the same manner by a pause. 
Thus in the following sentences ; 

Man is the merriest species in the creation ; all above and 
below him ar<? serious. Sped. N** 249. 

Hypocrisy cannot indeed be too much detested ; but at the 
same time is to be preferred to open impiety. Ibid. N*" 438. 

Memory is the purveyor of reason ; the power which places 
those images before the mind, upon which the judgment is to 
be exerpised. Johnson, 



108 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

I 

Wisdom comprehends at once the end and the means, esti- 
mates easiness or difficulty, and is cautious or confident in due 
proportion* Johnson. 

Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion. of his own dig- 
nity; he is better content to want diligence than power; and 
sooner confesses the depravity of his will than the imbecillity 
of his nature. Jbid. 

Nature seems to have taken a particular care to disseminate 
her blessings among the different regions of the world, with 
an eye to their mutual intercourse and traffic among man- 
kind, that the natives of the several parts of the globe might 
have a kind of dependence upon one anotlier, and be united 
together by their common interest. Spectator^ N** 69. 

It is presumed that there are few readers of 
taste who would not prefer a pause after the first 
word in all these sentences to such a pronun- 
ciation as should slide into the succeeding words 
without any rest at all. 

Another instance we may borrow from Dr. 
Price's beautiful picture of virtue. 

Virtue is of intrinsic value and good desert, and of indis- 
pensable obligation; not the creature of will, but necessary and 
immutable ; nqt local or temporary, but of equal extent and an- 
tiquity with the divine mind; not a mode of sensation, but 
everlasting truth ; not dependent on power, but the guide of all 
power. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem, and 
the source of ail beauty, order, and happiness, in nature. 

Mr. Addison furnishes us with many instances 
where a single person begins a sentence : 

Homer is in his province when he is describing a battle or 
« multitude, a hero or a god. Virgil is never better pleased 
than when he is in his Elysium, or copying out an entertaining 
picture : Homer's persons are most of. them godlike and ter- 
rible ; Virgil has scarce admitted any into his poem who are 
not beautiiul, and has taken particular care to make his hero 
40. Spectator, N° ^n . 

Plato expresses his abhorrence of some fables of the poets^ 
which seem to reflect on the gods as the authors of injustice ^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 109 

and lays it down as a principle, that whatever is permitted to 
befall a just man, whether poverty, sickness, or any of those 
things which seem to be evils, shall, either in life or death, con- 
duce to his good. . Spectator, N" 237. 

Seneca has written a discourse purposely upon this subject, 
in which he takes pains, after the doctnne of the stoics, to 
show that adversity is not in itself an evil ; and mentions a 
noble saying of Demetrius, " That nothing would be more 
•* unhappy than a man who had never known affliction." , 

Ihid, 

Tully was the first who observed that friendship improves 
l\^ppiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and 
<tividin^ of o\ir grief: a thought, in which he hath been fol^r 
lowed by all the essayers uppn friendship that have written 
since his time. Ibid, N** 68. 

In all these passages, a good reader. will per- 
ceive the propriety of pausing after the first 
word which forms the nominative case, or the 
subject of the sentence. By this pause the 
mind is fixed upon the principal object of atten- 
tion, and prepared to proceed with clearness and 
deliberation to the reception of what follows. 



The Contrast. 

Wheh words or phrases are placed in con- 
trast with each other, for the sake of being more 
distinctly perceived and more forcibly impressed 
upon the mind, they require a longer pause 
than ordinary between the contrasted parts, * 
that each part may be more accurately distin- 
guished; and a difference in the tone of voi9e 
with which each is pronounced, that this di- 
stinction may be more powerfully enforced. The 
distinction of voice I would recommend is a 
higher tone of voice upon the first part of the 
contrast J and, after a long pause, a lower tone 



no RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

upon the second. This mode of pronunciation 
wilJ^ if I mistake not, ^t once contribute to the 
clearness^ force, and variety of the whole. 

It may be observed, that when the contrast is 
formed between two persons or things, each of 
which begins the member of a sentence, they 
must each of them have the pause we should 
give to the comma ; for though these persons or 
things form the. nominative case to the verb, 
and consist but of a single word* it will be ne- 
cessary to pause after each, in order to show the 
contrast more distinctly. 

EXAMPLES. 

At the same time that I think discretion the most useful t»p 
lent a man can be master of^ I look upon cunning to be tlv9 
aecomplishment of little^ mean^ ungenerous minds. Discre- 
tion, points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most 
proper and laudable methods of attaining them : cunning, has 
only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing that may maker 
them succeed. Discretion, has large and extended views, and, 
like' a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon ; cunning, is 
a kind of short-sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects 
that are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at. a di- 
stance. Discretion, the more it i^ discovered, gives a greater 
authority to the person who possesses it: cunning, when it is 
once detected, loses its force^ and makes a man incapable of 
bringing about, even those events, which he might have doQ€ 
had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion, is the perfec- 
tion of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life : cun- 
ning, is a kind of instinct, that only looks out after our imme- 
diate interest and welfare. Discretion, is only found m men 
of strong sense and good understanding ; cunning, is often to 
be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but 
the fewest removes from them : in short, cunning, is only the 
mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the 
same manner a* vivacity is o(ten mistaken for witj »nd gr^vky 
for wisdom. Spectator, N° 32^. 

We have a shining instance of the force of 
contrast in Cicero, where he is showing the un- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. m 

^ual circumstances of Catiline when compared 
with those of the Roman citizens. 

But waving all other circuro stances, let us balance the real 
situation of the ppposing parties ; from that we can form a 
true notion how very low our enemies are reduced. Here^ 
regard to virtue, opposes insensibility to shame ; purity, pol- 
lution; integrity, injustice ; virtue, villany; resolution, rage; 
dignity, defilement ; regularity, riot. On one side, are ranged, 
equity, temperance, courage, prudence, and every virtue ; on 
the other, iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness, with every 
vice. Lastly, the struggle iie$ between wealth and want; the 
dignity and degeneracy of reason ; the force, and the phrensy 
of the soul ; between well-grounded hope and widely-ext«nd- 
^ed despair. In such a strife, in such a struggle as this, even 
though the zeal of men were wanting, must not the immortal 
Gods give such shining virtues the superiority over so great 
and such complicated vices ? Certainly. 

Cicero^s Oration t^ainst CatiUnc. 

in pronouncing this passage we must careful- 
ly pause between every contrasted word, or the 
whole force of the comparisotfwill be lost ; nay» 
there will be danger of obscuring the sense by 
blending together opposite qualities, if we do 
not carefully keep them separate by pauses, and 
at the same time give an additional diversity to 
the opposing parts by a different shade of sound : 
that is, if we do not give the former part of the 
contrast a higher sound, and the latter a some- 
what lower. 

The same observations will hold,good in pro* 
nouncing the following passage in Cicero's Ora- 
tion for Rosciu^ of Ameria. 

Therefore, O ye Judges i you are now to consider, whe- 
ther it is more probable that the deceased was murdered by 
the man who inherits his estate, or 'by him, who inherits nor- 
thing but beggary by tlie same death. By the man who wa» 
jaised from penury to plenty, or by liim who was brought 
from happiness to misery. By him whom the luet of lucre ha^ 



U2 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

inflamed with the most inveterate hatred against his olvn re- 
lations ; or by him whose life was such, that he never knew 
what gain was but from the product of his own labours. By 
him> who>of all dealers in the trade of blood, was the most au- 
dacious; or by him who was so little accustomed to the Forum 
and trials, that he dreads not only the benches of a court, but 
the very town. In short, ye Judges, what I think most to this 
point is, you are to consider whether it is most likely that an 
tnemy or a son would be guilty of this murder* 



Tfie Series. 

There is a species of sentences, which forms 
one of the greatest beauties of composition, and 
which, if well pronounced, is among the most 
striking graces of delivery : that is, where a 
number of particular members follow in a series, 
and form something like a gradation or climax. 
If we consider the nature of such a sentence, it 
will, in some niea^ure,^ direct us to a just pro- 
nunciation of it. It is a whole composed of* 
many particulars, arranged in such order as to 
show each part distinctly, and, at the same time, 
its relation to the whole. In order to mark these 
particulars distinctly, they must not be suffered 
to blend with each other ; and at the same time 
to show that they have a common relation to the 
whole sentence, they must not be pronounced 
entirely different. In short, the similitude and 
diversity in the pronunciation should be an exact 
picture of the similitude and diversity in the 
composition. For as a climax in writing ought 
to rise in force as it proceeds, so the voice, in 
pronouncing it, ought gradually to increase its 
force upon every subsequent member. Here is 
the diversity ; but, as the members have a simi- 
lar form, and stand equally related to the object 



V 



kJiETORICAt GRAMMAR. lli 

bf the sentence, they oiiglit to have a similar in^ 
flexion of the voice* Here is the iiniformity : 
for it is this inflexion or slide of the voice that 
classes speaking sounds more specifically than 
any other distinction. But as these particulars^ 
when they form a climfe, are really emphatical, 
and require the falling slide, so every series of 
particulars, whether they really increase in force 
or not, may, for the sake of gratifying the ear, 
and giving an importance to the subject, adopt 
the falling inflexion likewise* This, however, 
must ht understood only as a general rule. 

These observations premised, we may proceed 
to distinguish the series into two kinds : that, 
where the series begins the sentence, but does 
not either end it, or form complete sense ; which 
we may call the commencing series : and that, 
where the series either ends the sentence, or 
forms complete sense ; which we may call the 
concluding series. For the pronunciation of 
these different sentences, we may lay down this 
general rule. 

In a Commencing series, pronounce every par- 
ticu4ar with the falling inflexion but the last; 
arid in a Concluding series, let every member 
have the falling inflexion except the last but 
one ; and this ought to. have the falling^ in-* 
flexion> likewise, if it be of sufficient length 
to admit of a pause with a rising inflexion 
before the end* 

In order to convey as clear an idea as possible 
of the pronunciation of this Figure, a Plate is 
annexed, delineating the inflexions in Mr.. Ad- 
dison's beautiful description of Milton's Figure 
of Death* See page 115. 



IH RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



Commencing Series. 

To advise the ignorant, reHeve then^edy, comfort the af- 
fticted^ are, duties that fall in our way, almost every day of our 
lives. Spectator r N' 93 . 

In our country, a man seldom sets up for a poet witliout at- 
tacking the reputation of all his brothers in the art. The ig- 
norance of the modernK, the scribblers of the age, the decay 
of poetry,, are the topics of detraction, with which he make* 
his entrance into the world. Ibid. N° 253. 

The miser is more industrious than the Saint. The pain? 
of getting, the fear of losing, and the inability of enjoying hi» 
wealthy have been the mark of satire in all ages. 

Ibid. N** 624.. 

When ambition pulls one way, interest another, inclination 
a third, and perhaps reason contrary to all, a roan is likely to 
pass his time but ill, who has so many different parties to please. 

Jbid. N° 1 62- 

As the genius of Milton was wonderfully turned to^the sub- 
lime, his subject is tlVe noblest that could have entered into 
the thoughts of man : every thing that is truly great and asto- 
nishing has a place in it: the whole system of the intellectuaf 
w^rld, the chaos and the creation, heaven, earthj'and h611, enter 
into the constitution of his poem. Jbid, N** 3 15. 

Labour or exercise ferments the hiimours, casts them into 
their proper channels, throws off redundances, and helps na- 
ture in those secret distributions, without which the body can- 
not subsist in its vigour, nor the soul act with, cheerfulness. 

/Wd.N" 115.. 

Were the books of our best authors to be retailed to the 
public, and every page submitted to the taste of forty or fiiiy 
thousand readers, I am afraid we should complain of many 
flat expressions, trivial observations, beaten topics, and com- 
mon tlioughtis, which go off very well in the lump. 

To preserve in Macbeth a just consistency of character, to 
jnake that character naturally su$ceptibie of those desires that 



r 



»' 




; 



RHETORICAL ORAMMAR. lis 

%-^ Were to be commilhicated to it, to render it interesting to the 
spectator by some amiable qiialities> to make it exemplify the 
dangers of ambition, and the terrors of remorse, was all that 
could be required of the tragedian and the moralist* 

Mrs* Montaguk*s Essay on Skakspeare, pi 198. 

iThe descriptive part of thi#^allegory is likewise very strong, 
&nd full of sublime ideas. The figure of D^ath, the regal 
crown upon his h^ad, his menace of Satan, his advancing to 
the combatj tlie outcry at his biFth, are circumstances too no- 
ble to be passed over in silence, and extremely suitable to this 
kiiigof terrors* Spectator, N* 310* 

Aristotle observes^ that the fable of an epic poem should 
abound in circumstances that are both credible aixfastohishing. 
Milton's fable is a master-piece of this natufc ; as the War ill 
h^ven, the condition of the fallen angels, the state of Inno- 
cence) the temptation of the Serpent, and the fall of m^n, 
though they are very astonishing in themselves, are not only 
credible, but actual points of faith. Ibid. N° 3 1 5 . 

The inconveniences of attendance on great w^e^^ are more 
lamented than felt. To the greater number, solicitation is 
its own reward. To be seen in good company, to talk of 
familiarities with men in power, to be able to tell the freshest 
n^ws, to gratify an inferior circle with predictions of increase 
or decline of favour, and to be regsirded as a candidate for 
high offices, are compensations more than equivalent to the 
dela}' of favours, which, perhaps, he that asks them, has hardly 
tlie confidence to expect. Johnson, 

Let a man's innocence be what it w^llj let his Virtues arise 
to the highest pitch of perfection attainable in this life, there 
will still be in him so many secret sms, so many human frail- 
ties, so many offences of ignorance, passion, and prejudice, so 
many unguarded words and tlioughts^ andj in short, so many 
defects in his best Actions, that, without the advantages of such 
an expiation and atonement as Christianity has revealed to 
us, it is impossible that he should be cleared before his sove* 
reign Judge, or that he should be able to stand in his sight. 

Spectator, N"513* 

I would fain ask one of those bigoted infidels, supposing all 
the great points of atheism, a^ the casual or eternal formation 
of tlie world, the materiality of a thinking siibstance, the mor* 
tality of the soiil* the fortuitous organisation of the body, the 

12 



116 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

motion and gravitation of matter, with the like particulars^ 
were laid together, and formed into a kind of creed according 
to the opinions of the most celebrated atheists ; I say, sup^* 
posing such a creed as this were formed and imposed upo& 
any one people in the world, whether it would not require ai» 
infinitely greater measure of faith than any set of articles- 
which th«y so^ violently oppose ? Spectator, N° 163. 

Concluding Series^, 

Our lives, says Seneca, are spent either in doing nothing at 
all, or in doing nothing to the purpose, ©r in doing nothing^ 
Uiat we ought to do. Jbid. N° 93. 

It was necessary for the world that arts should be invented 
and improved, books written, and transmitted to posterity, na- 
tions conquered and civilised. . Ibid, N'* 255. 

All other acts of perpetuating our ideas, except wtiting^ or 
printing, continue but a short time: statues can last but a lew 
thousands of y^ars, edifices fewer, and colours still fewer 
than Edifices. . Ibid. N"" 166. 

This persuasioa of the truth of the Gospel, without the 
evidence which accompanies it, would not have been so 
firm and so durable ; it would not have acquired new force 
with age, it would not have resisted the torrent of time, and 
have passed from age to age to our own days. 

Life consists, not of a series of ilhistrious actions, or ele- 
gant enjoyments ; the greater part of our time passes in com- 
pliance with necessities, in the performance ot daily diJties^ - 
ki the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement 
•f petty pleSasures, Johnson^ 

A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the ii^tce* 
Bess of a party, of doing justice to the character ot a deserving 
man, of softening the envious, quieting the ingry, and re6- 
tifying the r^^judiced; which are all of them employments 
Suited to a reasonable nature, and bring great satisfactiox^ t» 
the person who can busy himself in them with discretion. 

Though we seem grieved at the shortness of life in genera!^ 
we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs 
to be at age, then to be a man of bi^sinesss,. then to miake u|i 
ioi estate, then to arrive at honours, then ta retire. 

Ibid^ N? 9S. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 117 

There Is no blessing of life comparable to the enjoyment of 
m discreet and virtaous iTlend. It eases and unloads the mind, 
clears and improves the understanding, engenders thoughts and 
Icnowledge, animates virtue and good resolutions, and findi 
employment for the most vacant hoars of life. Spectator^ N* 93- 

The devout man does not only believe, but fe^s there is a 
Deity; he has actual sensations of him; -his experience con- 
curs with his reason ; he sees him more and more in all his in- 
tercourses with him ; and «ven in this life almost loses his faith 
in conviction. » Ihid. N° 465. 

The iU-natured maj3, though but of equal parts with the 
rood-natured man, gives himself a larger Seld to expatiate in ; 
fie exposes tho^ failings in human nature which the other 
would cast a v^il over, laughs at vices which the other 
either excuses^ or c(nic^als, falls indifferently upon friends 
or Enemies, exposes the person who has obliged him, and, itt 
^hort;, slicks at nothing that «iay establish his character of a 
wit. ihid, N° 169. 

For what can interrupt the content of the fair sex, upoa 
whom one age has laboured after another to confer honours 
and accumulate immunities ? those, to whom rudeness is in- 
famy, and insult iscowardice? whose eye commands the brave, 
and whose smile softens the severe ? whom the sailor travel* 
to adorn, the soldier bleeds to defend, and the poet wears out- 
life to celebrate ; who claim tribute from every art and science, 
and for whom all who approach them endeavour to multiply^ 
delights, without requiring from them any refarn but willing- 
ness to be pleased. Joknsoru 

Nature has laid out all her art in beautifying the face ; she 
lias touched it with verrhiiion, planted in it a double row of 
ivory, made it the seat of smiles and bliishes, lighted it up and 
enlivened It with the brightness of the ^yes, hung it on each 
■side with curious organs of s^nse, given it airs and graces that 
cannot be described, and surrounded it with such a flowing 
shade of hair^ as sets all its beauties in the most agreeable 
light. Spectator, N°98. 

Nothing is more pleasant to the fancy, than to enlarge itself 
by degrees, in its contemplation of the various proportions 
which its several objects bear to each other, when it com- 
pares the body of man to the bulk of the whole earth, the 
earth to the circle it describes round the sun, that circle to 
the sphere of the fixed stars, the sphere of the fixed stare to 
the cixcMit of the whole creation, tlie whole creation itself to 

I3 



1 1 8 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

the infinite space that is every-where diffused about it 2 or 
when the imagination works downward, and considers the 
bulk of a human body in respect of an animal a hundred 
(imes less than a mite, the particular lYmbs of such an animal, 
the different springs which actuate the limbs, the spirit* 
which set these springs a-going, and the proportionable mi- 
nuteness of these several parts, before they have arrived at 
their full growth and perfection. Spectator , N" 420. 

Should the greater part of people sit down and draw up a 
particular account of their time, vv^hat a shameful bill would 
it be ! So much ip eating apd drinking and sleeping, beyond 
what nature requires ; so much in revelling and wantonness i 
so much for the recovery of last night^s intemperance; so 
much in gaming, plays, and masquerades; so much in paying 
and receiving formal and impertinent visits; so much in idte 
and foolish prating in censuring and reviling our neighbours ; 
sp much in dressing out our bodies and talking of fashions | 
apd so much wasted and lost i|i doipg nothing at all. 

Sher^ocfi^ 

Question and Jnszver. 

When a speaker puts a question to himself^ 
and immecjiately answers it, he becomes as it 
\vere two persons: and as in all interlocutory dis-. 
course, we find the person who questions and he 
who answers assume a somewhat different tone 
qf voice, so a speajcer who assumes both these 
personages ought also to assume the different 
tones they make use of; that is, the question 
should be pronounced in a higher, a more open 
and declarative tone, and the answer (after a 
long pause) in a lower, firmer, and more definite 
one. Such a distinction of voice is not only pro- 
per to distinguish the sense of each sentence^^ 
and to keep tliem from blending together, and 
confusing the thought, but it gives a more em- 
phatic turn to the meaning, and gratifies the ear 
by its variety. This figure of speaking is often 
^opted by the best orators, and merits care-^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 119 

fill attention in pronouncing it Thus Cicero, 
in his oration for Muraena, makes use of thjs 
figure, where he sayj 



-But to return to what I proposed ; away with the name 
ofCato from this dispute ; away with all authority, which in a 
court of justice ought to have no other influence but to save.* 
Join issue with me upon the crimes themselves. What is 
your ciiarge^ Cato ? What i^ to be triedi What do you offer 
evidence of? Do you impeach corruption ? 1 do not defend 
it. Do you blame me iar defending, by my pleading, what £ 
punished by law ? I answer, that I punished corruption and 
hot innocence : as to corruption, if you please, I will go 
hand in hand with yourself in impeaching it. 

In pronouncing this passage, we may observe 
that the answers / do not defend it — / anszoer, 
tiiat I punished corruption and not innocence^ 
ought to be preceded by a long pause, arfd pro- 
nounced in a lower tone of yoiiL:e than the ques- 
tions to which they relate. 

We have another example of this figure in his 
oration for C<elius : 

, The charge of poisoning iv)w only remains to be discussed; 
of which I can neither see the foundation nor unravel the de- 
sign. For what reason could Cselius have to endeavour to 
poison that lady ? That he might: not pay back the gold ? Pray 
did she demand it ? To avoid the discovery of his guilt ? But 
who charged him ? Who would even have mentioned it, had 
inot Cselius impeached a certain person ? 

Iji this passage we find one question answered 
by another ; and that question in the first in- 
stance, Prciy did she demand it? requiring the 
rising inflexion at the end. In this case, how- 
ever, notwithstanding the question ends with the 
rising turn of voice, the whole must be pro- 
nounced in a lower tone than the question 
•Fhich precedes' it. 

I * 



120 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 

But one of the most animated figures of tW$ 
kind we find in his oration for Milo : 

Were the situation of things to bfe expressed ifi pointing \rx^ 
stead of words, you might thep distinguish the traitor from 
tjie \indesigning person : as the one was sitting in his chariotj, 
lyrapped up in his cloak, q.nd his wife by his side ; it is hard tq 
S^y if the cioaki the chariot, or the companion, was the great- 
est impediment to such an intention- Fqr wh^t can carry les^ 
the app^rance of a design to fight, than a man entangle4 
itith a cloak, shut up in a chariot, and almost fettered by ^ 
wife? Now, my lords, survey Clodius first leaving his seat 
in a hurry. For what reason ? In the evening, Upon what 
emergency? Late. To what purpose, especially at this sea? 
son? He strikes oflf to Pompey's country-hpuse. Why? Tha^ 
lie might visit Pompey ? He knew he was at his seat by Al-? 
bium, Was it to view his house ? He had beep in it a thour 
siand times. Then vvhat could be his xnotive for all this saun-r 
tering and shifting ? Why^ to loiter ; to gaiii time, that bQ 
jpight b^ sure to be on the spot when Milo came up. 

The three first questions in this example have 
no answers, but are still to be pronounced in 2^ 
higher tone o£ yojce than the affirmative propo-r 
sitionSj In the evenings Late, He strikes offta Pom^ 
pey^s country-house. But the succeeding quesi 
tions have all answers, whicti must, after a con-! 
siderable pause, adopt a lower tong qf vojc? than 
^he questions that precede tl^en^t 

Echo. 

I HAVE adopted this name iox warit of ^ 
better, to express that repetition of a word op 
thought which immediately arises from a wor^ 
or thought that preceded Jt. Thus Mr. Phillips^ 
in Chandler's P^arlianientary Debates; 

Sir, I should jbe much surprised to hear thexnotion made by 
tjie honparable gentleman who spoke last but one, opposed by 
any member in this house. A motion founded in justi<?e^ 
supported by precedent, and warranted by necessity^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- .^ 121 

Here the word motion may be called the echo- 
ing word, which ought always to be pronounced 
as if marked with a note of admiration ; th^t is, 
with the rising inflexion in a high tone of voice, 
'jand a long pause after rt, when it iinplies any 
degree of passion, as in this example ; but wheii 
it is merely narrative or didactic, as in the fol- 
lowing passage ; 

Tully was the first who observed, that friendship impromei 
iiappiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and 
jdividing of our grief : a thought in which he hath been folo 
low^ by all th^ essayers upon friendship that have writtea 
since his time. Spectator, N"" 63. 

Here the word thought ought to have the ris-» 
ing inflexion, and a pause after it, but must not 
be in the high tone which the word motion in 
Ihe former example required, as it is plain se- 
date reasoning, and totally devoid of passion. 
But in a speech of Mr. Pitt, before he was Lord 
Chatham, we find the echoing word require the 
same inflexion aod pause as in the last example, 
but accompanied with the high impassioned tone 
beard in the first : 

I Cannot say, Sir^ wliich of, these motives influence the ad* 
vocates of the bill before us; a bill in which such cri^elties are 
proposed as^re yet unknown amongst the most savage nations; 
suph as slavery has hot yet borne pr tyranny invented ; such 
^s cannot be heard "vvithout resentment, nor thought without 
Ijorror.' Pliandler^s Debates, 1740. 

But the most beautiful example of this figure, 
ip our, or perhaps in any other language, is that 
we meet with in Hannah More's Strictures 01% 
pemale Education. Speaking on dissipation and 
$he modern habits of life, and particularljr ou |he 
gj)irit of gaming, she sap^j-^ ♦ 



lit RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

With " mysterious reverence" I forbear to descant on those 
serious and interesting rites> for the more augast and solemn 
celebration of which Fashion nightly convenes these splendid 
myriads to her more sumptuous temples. Rites ! which, whqn 
engaged in with due devotion, absorb the whole soul, and 
call every passion into exercise, except those indeed of love 
and peace, and kindness and gentleness. Inspirmg rites I 
which stimulate fear, rouse hope, kindle zeal, quicken dul-» 
iiess, sharpen discernment, exercise memory, inflame curio- 
sity! Rites! in short, in the due performance of which, all 
the energies and attentions, aQ the ppwers and abilities, all the 
abstraction aad exertion, all the diligence and devotedness, 
all the sacrifice of time, all the contempt of ease, all the neg«? 
Icct of sleep, all the oblivion of care, all the risks of fortune 
{half of which, if directed to their true objects, would change 
the very face of the world), all these are concentrated to qne 
point: a point! in which the wise and the weak, the learned 
and the ignorant, the fair and the frightful, the sprightly and 
the dull, the rich and the poor, the patricia^i ^nd plebeian meet 
in one common uniform equality ; aji equality I as religiously re- 
spected in these solemnities, in which all distinctions are 
levelled at a blow, and of which the very spirit is therefore 
democratical, as it is c<imbated in all other instances. 

This passage is at once a brilliant example of 
the echo and the series ; and oi>e hardly knows 
which to admire most, the beautiful structure of 
the sentences, the varied and animated imagery 
of the thought, or the philosophical justness of 
the moral sentiment. 

In pronouncing this beautifiil p^sspige, the 
word llites must become ii>ore einphatical with 
the rising inflexion every time it is repeated, and 
the pauses after it longer. The words point and 
equality ought to have the same pause and in^ 
ijexiop, and the several serieses to bepronounce4 
according to the rules under that head, page 1 13. 

Cicero pleading before Caesar for king D^jo-i 
tarus, says,— 

What shall I say of his courage, what of h:s magnanimity, 
^is gravity, his firmness? Qwa/j(2«/ whicji ail the wise ai\4 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 123 

learned allow to be the greatest, and some the only blessings 
p( life, and yvhich Enable virtue not only to enjoy comfort but 
}iappiness. 

Agaii}, pleading for the s^me client, he 
3ays, — 

The man then who was not only pardoned but-dislingulsh^ 
ed by you with the highest honours, is charged with an in* 
tention to kill you in his own house. An intentian, of which, 
unless yoii imagine that he is utterly deprived of reason^ yoa 
^annpt suspect him. 

^ Here the words qualities and intention re- 
quire the rising inflexion, with a long .pause 
after them, accompanied with a considerable 
degree of admiration and surprise. 

The same pause, inflexion of voice, surprise, 
and admiration, must accompany the word laws^ 
in the following passage in his first oratioi| 
against Anthony. 

By the dead are the banished recalled. By the dead are 
the privileges of Rome bestowed, not on private persons only^ 
but upon whole nations and provinces. By the dead mem- 
bers of corporations have their tribute remitted. W^ there- 
fore confirm whatever, upon a single but unquestionable evi- 
dence, has been produced from this house; and shall we think 
/of ratifying the acts of Caesar, yet abolish his laws^ Those 
laws which he himself, in our sight, repeated, pronounced, en- 
acted ? Laivs which he valued himself upon passing ? Laivs 
in which he thought the system of our government was com- 
prehended ? Zflu;* which concern our provinces and our trials? 
Are we, I say, to repeat such laws, yet ratify his acts ? Yet 
may we at least complain of those which are only proposed ; 
as to those which we pass we are deprived even of the liberty, 
to complain. 

In pronouncirig this passage, it ought to be 
pbserved, that the echoing word laws ought to 
be pronounced with increasinff force upon every 
repetition, which will give it a climax of im- 
portance^ and greatly add to the variety of it. 



104 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

This mode of pronunciation will be more pecu-» 
Jiarly proper upon the same word in another 
passage in his oration against Piso. 

During al! this time, who ever heard you, I will not say 
act or remonstrate, but so much as speak or complain ? Can 
jou imagine yourself to have been a consal, when, under your 
government, the man who had saved his country, who had 
€aved the majesty of the senate,— when the man who had led 
in triumph into Italy, at three several times, the inhabitants of 
every quarter of the world, declared that he could not safely 
ftppear in public ? Were you consuls at the time, when, as 
soon as you began, to open your mouths upon any adair, or to 
make any motion in the senate, the whole assemnly cried out, 
and gave you to understand, that you were not to proceed to 
business before you had put the question for my return ; when, 
though fettered by the convention you had made, you yet 
told them, that you wished, with all your heart, that you were 
not bound up by law ?• A law, which did not appear to be 
binding upon private subjects ; a /aiu, branded upon this con^ 
Crtitutioh by the hands of slaves, engraved by ^'iolence, im- 
posed by ruffians ; while the senate was abolished,, all our pa- 
triots driven out of the Forura ; the republic in captivity ; a 
luzuj contradictory to all other law% and passed without any of 
the usual forms. The consuls who could pretend they were 
afraid of such a law as this, were ignorant of the laws, the in- 
stitutions and the rights, of that very state in which they pre^ 
t^ided to a sliare of the government. 



AfitecedenL 

Pronouns that are antecedents to some re- 
lative are often pronounced without accent, 
and by that means render the sense of the sen- 
tence feeble and indistinct. The antecedent and 
the relative are correspondent words , which, 
ought to be distinctly, though not emphatically, 
marked, in order to show the precise meaning of 
a sentence. When pronouns are not antecedent 
to a relative, they are often pronounced without 
accent J and, as the words they r^ferto are ^ufE* 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. \2i 

ciently understood, this unaccented pronuncia- 
tion produces no obscurity. Thus in the fol- 
lowing sentence : 

He cannot exalt his thoughts to any thing great or noble, 
because he only believes that, after a short turn on the stage q£ 
this world, he is to sink into oblivion^ and to lose his conscious^ 
ness for ever. 

Here the person spoken of Is supposed to be 
understood, and there is no necessity of laying 
even accentual stress on the word he: but in 
the following sentence : , 

He cannot exalt his thoughts to any thing great or noble, 
who only believes that, after a short turn on the stage of this 
'world, he is to sink into oblivion, and lose his consciousness 
forever. ^ 

Here we find that pronoun fte thp antece- 
dent to the relative ivho, and perceive the ne- 
cessity of giving it an accent, and making a»con- 
siderable pause after it. 

When the relative immediately follows the 
antecedent, the antecedent requires an accent 
and pause after it in the same manner. 

He, that pursues fame with just claims, trusts his happi- 
ness to the winds ; but he that endeavours after it by ialse 
merit, has to fear, not only the violence of tlie storm, but the 
leaks of his vessel. Johnson* 

This passage will want much of its force and 
precision^ if we do not lay an accent on the pro- 
noun he, and make a sensible pause after it 

The same may be observed of the following 
sentence. 

He, that is loudly praised, will be clamorously censured; 
lie, that rkes hastily into fame, will be in danger of sinking 
ittddenly into oblivion. Ibid, 



126 ilHETORIC^AL (SRAMMAR. 

An attention to the foregoing rule will direct 
us in some doubtful cases, and give a decision 
to what might otherwise appear equivocal. 
Thus, when Zanga, in the RevengCy is applaud- 
ing himself for his conduct, aiid apologising for 
the obliquity of it, he says, — 

And greater sure my merit, who, to gain 
A point sublime, could such a task sustain. 

It has already been observed, that when the 
pronoun my is in opposition to any other pos-. 
sessive pronoun, it is emphatical, and requires 
the sound rhyming with high. In this instance^ 
perhaps, it may be said that niy is emphatical, a,s 
it points out the person of the speaker in contra- 
distinction from every other, and therefore re- 
quires the open sound oiy with a degree of 
K)rce upon it; and that who is here not deter- 
minative, but explicative ; that is, it does not ne- 
cessarily restrain the merit to him, because he 
acts in that mantier, but only expatiates on the 
merit by way of supplement. This may possi- 
bly be the case ; but since the sense will admit 
of the whe^s being determinative, pronouncing 
the my with the emphatic sound takes away all 
doubt, and gives a completeness to the sense as 
well as plenitude to the sound of the line. 

There is the same necessity for accentual force 
and a pause,' when the pronoun is in the objec- 
tive, as when it is in the nominative case. 

« 

A man will have his servant just, diligent, sober, and chaste^ 
for no other reason but the terror of losing his master's favour, 
\vhen all the laws divine and human cannot keep him whon> 
he serves within bounds, with relation to any one of these vir- 
tues. Spectator, N° 202. 

This rule leads us to decide upon the pronun- 
ciation of the pronoun, when in the objective 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 12T 

case, and, when the relative to which it cor- 
responds is not expressed but understood. 

From what has been observed, we may con- 
clude that, whenever there is an antecedent and 
a relative, there is a necessary connexion which 
requires the former always to have accentual 
force, to intimate that the relative is in view, and 
in some measure to anticipate the proaunciation 
of it. 

EXAMPLE. 

As folly and inconsiderateness are the foundations of infi- 
delity, the great pillars and supporters of it are either the 
vanity of appearing wiser than the re^t of mankind, or an osten- 
tation of courage in despising the terrors of another world, 
which have 90 great an influence on what they call weaker 
minds ; or an aversion to a belief, which must cut them off 
from many of those pleasures they propose to themselves, and 
fill them with remorse for many of them they have already 
tasted. * Spectator, N* 136. 

The antithesis in the latter 'part of this sen- 
tence may at first sight seem to, require an em- 
phasis on them, as opposed to those pleasures they 
propose to themselves^ but if we examine the 
state of the antithesis more narrowly, we sh^U 
find that the opposite parts will be sufficiently 
contrasted without a stress on them, since the 
sense would be perfect without this word ; but 
as there is a relative understood before the word 
they, we find the propriety of a stress on the an- 
tecedent them, in order to correspond to the el- 
liptical relative. 

Hannah More, whose language is so pointed 
and perspicuous, so rich, and at the same time 
so correct, had less need, perhaps, than most 
writers to mark emphaticat words in Italics j 



125 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

yet her knowledge of just pronunciation has in-* 
duced her to mark an antecedent pronoun, that 
its correspondence with its relative might be 
sufficently intimated. This occurs in a passage 
which contains perhaps. 

What oft was thought, but ne*cr so well expressed. Pope, 

Thus the weakest reasoners are always the most positive ia 
debate : and the cause is obvious ; for thejf are unavoidably 
driven to maintain their pretensions by violence, who want 
arguments and reasons to prove that they are in the right. 

Strictures on Modern Fetnale Education, vol. ii.. p. 15. 

Variation. 

The causes of variety in reading and speak- 
ing are felt in their effects, but are very difficult 
to describe. The play of a melodious voice, 
from high to low, from loud to soft, or from 
quick to slow, charms us with the pleasing trans- 
ition from one to the other; but affords so little 
ground for investigating the principles on which 
it depends, that the generality of writers on this 
subject content themselves with advising their 
readers to observe the best pronbuncers, and ta 
follow then* as closely as possible. This advice 
is certainly very rational, though not very satis- 
factory. Rules are the soul ofart and science j 
and he who can trace one in an art which was 
supposed to be incapable of rules, has added 
something, however small, to the mass of gene- 
ral knowledge. A conviction of this has en- 
couraged me to offer a few rules foi^ varying 
the voice in reading, by an attention to the in- 
flexion of voice on certain parts of a sentence 
where at first sight there appears be no neces- 
sity for any alteration of voice s or if there were. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMaA. 129 

^at any suth alteration is perfectly arbitrary : 
both these mistakes, however^ will be rectified 
by attending to the pronunciation of the follow- 
ing S(?ntence : 

Wheh I am in a serioUs Humour, I very often walk by my- 
self in Westminster A bhey ; where the gloominess of tne 
place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity 
of the building, and thfe condition of the people who lie iii it, 
are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather 
thoGghtfuIhess, that is not disagreeable. Spectator, N° 26. - 

If the latter members of this sentence^ which 
are very properly marked with Commas, were all 
to have the same inflexion (or suspension of 
voice, as it is coAimonly called), the monotony^ 
t^rould strike every one : but let the falling in- 
flexion be placed on place, buildings and mind, 
and an agreeable variety will succeed the mono- 
tone, wnich will convince us that this variet/ 
arfses from the regular variation of inflexion 
upon successive members of the sentence. 

Under the article series it has been seen ho\^ 
much force and variety arises from pronouncing 
the several successive members with an appro- 
priate inflexion of voice. It may in the same 
manner be observed, that wherever similar mem- 
bers occur, though no more than three, a varia^ 
tion of inflexion may be adopted with advan4 
tage. Thus> in the following example: 

Good nature is more agreeable in conversation than wit, 
and gives a Certain air to the countenance, which is more ami- 
able than beauty. It shows virtue in the fairest Rght, takes off 
in some measure from the deformity of vice, and makes even 
folly and impertinence supportable. Spectator, N** 169. 

In the last sentence of this exsLmple, by placing 
the falling inflexion on light at the end of the 
fist member, we shall diversify it from the next 

K 



wo RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

member, which must have the rising, and so form 
an agreeable cadence. 

In the same manner, where there are three tnem- 

.bers in the former part of a sentence before the 

sense begins to form, the falling inflexion upon 

the antipenultimate member, as it may be called, 

will give an agreeable variety to the whole. 

The philosopher, the saint, or the h^ro ; the wise, the good, 
or the great man ; very often lie hid and concealed in a ple- 
beian, which a proper education might have dis-interred and 
have brought to light. Spectator, N° 215, 

Here, by placing the falling inflexion on 
hero, we shall diversify it from the rising on 
plebeiariy and add considerably to the harmony 

of the cadence. 

It may be observed, when the first princi- 
pal constructive member of a sentence extends 
to a considerable length before the sense be- 
gins to form, that, as soon as the sense begins to 
jorm, the voice ought to take every occasion of 
relieving the ear from the sameness which was 
necessary to connect the sense in the first mem- 
ber; and for that purpose the falling inflexion 
should be adopted as soon as possible at the be- 
ginning of the second member, both in order to 
produce a variety and to form a cadence. 

As the noblest mien, or most graceful action, would be de- 
graded and obscured by a garb appropriated to the gross em- 
ployments of rustics or mechanics, so the most heroic senti- 
ments will lose their efficacy, and the most splendid id^as drop 
their magnificence, if they arc conveyed by words used com- 
monly upon low and trivial occasions. Johnson. 

In this sentence, as the voice must preserve 
a sameness on the subordinate pauses till it 
comes to vicchanicSi where it adopts the rising 
inflexion and loiig paus^, so it must adopt the 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. i3l ' 

fklling inflexion on sentiments and ideas, to re- 
lieve the ear from that sameness, and form a 
cadence. 

Nearly the same observations hold good in the 
follov^ing sentence: 

As beauty of body, with an agreeable carriage, pleases th« 
eye, and that pleasure consists in observing that all the parts 
have a certain elegance, and are proportioned to each other ; 
so does bea(ity of behaviour, which appears in our lives, ob- 
tain the approbation of all with whom we converse, from the 
order, consistency, and moderation of our w^ords and actions. 

Spectator, N" 104.. 

Here the sense extends to other before it be* 
gins to form, and, consequently, the voice must 
be carried on with little variation till that word 
is pronounced with the rising inflexion and long 
pause; after which the voice must adopt the 
rising inflexion on beauty , and the falling on be^ 
haviour; the falling both on approbatiotiy and the 
word all; when the cadence must be formed by 
*he falling inflexion on €rder and consistency , the 
rising on moderation ^ and the rising on ivords, 
and the falling on actionSy the voice descending 
in a gradually lower tone. 

iyn the PeriodyWid the Method of forming a Cadence. 

WHEN a sentence is so far perfectly finished, 
as not to be connected in construction with the 
following sentence, it is marked with a period. 
This point is in general so well understood, that 
few grammarians have thought it necessary to 
.give an express example of it ; though there are 
none who have inquired into punctuation who 
do not know that in loose sentences the period 
is frequently confounded with the colon. But 

JK 2 



li^ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

though the tone with which we conclude a sen- 
tence is generally well understood, we cannot 
be too careful, in pronunciation, to distinguish it 
as much as possible from that member or a sen- 
tence which contains perfect sense, and is usually 
pointed with a colon* Such members, which 
may not be improperly called sententioUey or 
little sentences, require the falling inflexion, but 
in a higher tone than the preceding words, as if 
we had only finished apart of what we had to say; 
while the period requires the falling inflexion in 
a lower tone, as if we had nothing more to add. 
But this final tone does not only lower the last 
word; it has the same influence on those which 
more immediately precede the last ; so that the 
cadence is prepared by a gradual fall upon the 
concluding words, every word in the latter part 
of a sentence sliding gently lower till the voice 
drops upon the last. This will more evidently 
appear upon repeating the following sentence. 

Thi$ pertnasion of the truth of the Gospel, without the 
evidence which aocompantes it, would not have been so firm 
and so -durable : it would not have acquired new force witii 
kge : it would not have resisted the torrent of time, and have 
passed from age to ige to our 6wn dlys. 

We find perfect sense formed at the word 
dttrable; but as this does not conclude the sen- 
tence, these words, though adopting the falling 
inflexion, are pronounced in a higher tone than 
the rest : the same may be observed of the word 
agCy which ends the second member; while in 
the last member not only the word days is pro- 
nounced lower than the rest, but the whole mem- 
ber falls gradually into the cadence, and have 
passed from age to age to our own days. 

Let us4ake another Example : . 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 133 

II was said ef Socrates, that he bright philosophy down from 
heaven to inhabit among men ; and I shall be amoitious to have 
it said of me, that I have brought philosophy out of closets 
'and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in cldbs and as-*" 
s^mblies, at t6a-table$ and in coffee-houses. Spectator, N"* 10« 

When this sentence is properly read, every ear 
will perceive a peculiar harmony in the cadence^ 
but few wiir judge from whence it proceeds. 
If we analyse it, we shall see that four accented 
"words are contrasted with other four, and that 
the inflexions on each are in an exactly opposite 
order. This number of accented words, and this 
order of the inflexions, is so agreeable to the ear, 
that a judicious reader will endeavour to fall into 
it as often as the sense will permit him, as in the 
preceding example ; and if the sense will only 
allow him four accented words, as in the follow- 
ing example, he will be sure to preserve the 
same arrangement of inflexions. 

Nature seems to have designed the head as the cupola ta 
the most glorious of her works : and when we load it with 
such a pile of supernumerary ornaments, we destroy the sym- 
metry of the human figure, and foolishly contrive to call off 
the eye from great and real beauties, to childish g6wgaws, 
ribbons, and bone-lace. Spectator, N*" 93. 

In pronouncing this finishing sentence of the 
essay, we ought to begin the cadence after the 
word^figure ; then to let the voice play up and 
down uporx the words foolishly and contrive^ call 
qffy and the eye; that is, to ^xvt foolishly the rising 
and contrive the falling inflexion — the words call 
cff the rising, and the eye the falling : then the 
last member after beauties^ consisting of foiir ac- 
cented words, should have the two inflexions ar- 
ranged as they are in the example ; that is, fall- 
ing, rising, rising, falling, and these to be pro- 
nounced in a gradually descending tone till th^ 
f Igse of the sentence. 

k3 



134 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

But here it will be absolutely necessary to ob- 
serve, that though the period generally requires 
the falling inflexion, every period does not ne- 
cessarily adopt this inflexion in the same tone of 
voice : if sentences are intimately connected in 
sense, though the grammatical structure of each 
may be independent on the other, they may not 
improperly be considered as so many small sen- 
tences making one large one, and thus requiring 
a pronunciation correspondent to their logical 
dependence on each other : hence it may be 
laid down as a general rule, that a series of pe ■ 
riods in regular succession are to be pronoun- 
ced as every other series; that is, if they follow 
each other regularly as parts of the same ob- 
servation, they are to be pronounced as parts, 
and not as wholes. 

EXAMPLES. 

Some men cannot discern between a noble and a m^an 
action. Others are Bpt to attribute them to some false end 
or intt^ntion, and others purposely misrepresent or put a 
wrong interpretation on them. Spectator j N° 255. 

Though the first part of this passage is marked 
with a period in all the editions of the Spectator 
I have seen, nothing can be plainer than that it 
ought to be pronounced as the first member of 
the concluding series of thfee compound mem- 
bers. See article. Compound Series. 

Thus, although the whole of life is allowed by every one 
to be short, tlie several divisions of it appear long and tedious. 
We are for lengthening our span in general, but would fain 
contract the parts of which it is composed. The usurer 
w^ould be very well satisfied to have all the time annihilated 
that lies between the present moment and next quarter-day. 
The politician would be contented to lose three years in his 
life, could he place things in the posture which he fancies 
they will stand in after such a revolution of time. The minor 
would be glad to strike out of his existence all the mo- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 135 

ments tbat are to pass away before becomes of age. Tbtft 
as fast as our time runs, we should be v6ry glad, in most 
part of our lives, that it ran miJch faster than it d^es. 

Spectator, N'93. 

i Though here are no less than six periods in 

I this passage, and every one of them requires the 

falling inflexion, yet the voice ought not to fall 
into a lower tone till the last sentence but one, 
where the words, b'efore he comes qfage^ must fall 
gradually to the end. But in order to give va- 
riety, and form a cadence, the last sentence must 
be pronounced in a different manner from the 
rest; that is, the whole in a lower tone, with the 
last member falling gradually, and the different 
slides on the several words, as. marked in the 
example. As the last of these sentences which 
forms the cadence does not fall into the same ac- 
centual portions as in the examples, page 132, 
J 33, the inflexions are repeated in the same or- 
der upon the four last as on the four first words, 
and the last member adopts the same order of in- 
flexions as in the series. See Elements of Elocu-^ 
//c;w, pagellS. , 

On Accented Force. 

By accent is generally and justly understood 
a greater force on one syllable of a word than on 
another; but whether this force was pronounced 
in a higher, or only in a louder tone, was jande- 
cided, till, by distinguishing the voice into its two 
inflexions, the accented syllable was found to be 
always louder, and either higher or lower than 
the rest of the syllables, according to the inflex- 
ion with which the accent was pronounced*. 
The seat of the accent, or that syllable in a word 
which has a right to it, in preference to the rest, 

* See Elements of Elocution^ p. 186, 

K 4 



nt RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

is decided by custom, and does not form any 
part of the present inquiry. The question here 
discussed is. What is the nature of that force on 
a certain syllable pf a wprd, which word can-, 
not properly be called emphatical ? Thus, in the. 
following sentence, 

£vil communication corrupts iniegrityj^ 

not a single word is emphatical. Every word is 
pronounced with an equal degree of force, and 
every word has one accented syllable pronounc- 
ed evidently louder than the rest. But in the 
following sentence. 

Censure is the tax a man payA to the,' puhlic for being 
tminent; 

—in the pronunciation of this sentence, I say, we 
iind the words in Italics pronounced with an 
equal degree of force, but that the others sink 
into a feebleness, distinguishable by the dullest 
ear. If we inquire wh^it degree of feebleness 
it is which these words fall into, we shall find 
|t to be exactly that which is given to the unac- 
cented syllables of the words censuxcy public, and 
eminent: so that if we consider the words in Ro- 
man letters as unaccented syllables pf the others, 
and joined to them as such, we shall have a pre^ 
cise idea of the comparative force of each. Let 
us, for example, suppose them written in the 
manner following, — 

Censure isthetax amanpays tothepdblic forbeing^minent ; 

and we find we have a precise and definite idea 
of the two forces, ana need not recur to the 
common vague direction pf " pronouncing some 
words more forcibly, but not so as to deprive 
the rest of all force :''— the forces of these two 
kinds of words are as much settled as the two 
Jiinds of force on accerited and unaccented syl-. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. iTt 

lables, and these are sufficiently understood by 
all who have the gift of speech. 

The first obvious distinction, therefore, be^ 
t ween the sounds of words, with respect to force, 
is, into accented and unaccented ; and while we 
know what force we ought to give to the un- 
accented syllables of a word, we can be at no 
loss for the force on unaccented words s anfd 
we need but consider these words as the un- 
accented syllables of the othe^Sj, to pronounce 
theip properly. 

On Emphatic Force. 

Emphatic force, or that force we give to 
words either placed in opposition to other words,' 
pr sq^gesting such an oppqsition,*— this force, I 
say, IS not quite so definite as the force of ac - 
cent : very luckily, hpwever^ the degree of em- 
phatic words is not so essential. to emphasis as 
the degree of accented force is to accented 
words : if Tve pronounce the smaller and less 
important words of a sentence with the same 
jForce we do the more significant wprds, we shall 
soon find that accent is of much more import- 
ance to the sense than emphasis. Let us, for 
example, pronounce every word in the forego- 
ing sentence (where there is no emphatic word) 
with an equal degree of force, and we shall find 
they want that light and shade which is neces- 
sary to form a strong picture of the thought. On 
the contrary, let us preserve the proper inflex- 
ions upon the accented syllables of emphatic 
words, and we shall find the sense fully and 
clearly brought out, without any more force 
upon these words than is given to the other ac- 
cented words, which are not emphatical. Thus, 
)ii jt}}e following sentence. 



138 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR'. 

- The corruption of the best things produces the worst, 

we find the two words best and worst are in op- 
I)Osition to each other, and are therefore empha- 
tical ; but in order to express this emphasis, we 
do not find ourselves under the least necessity of 
pronouncing these words louder or more forcibly 
than the words corruption and produces. The 
'word things indeed must necessarily be pro- 
nounced feeble, like an unaccented syllable of 
the word best; and it is on this feebleness of the 
word, which belongs to both parts of the empha- 
sis, that the emphatic sense depends much more 
than on the force which is given to the empha- 
tic words themselves. Let us try to illustrate 
this by examples. 

Prosperity gains friends, and adversity tries them. 

In this sentence we find the force of the empha- 
tic words depends entirely on the feebleness with 
which we pronounce the words common to both 
parts of the antithesis : for if, instead of pro- 
nouncing the words friends and them as unac- 
cented syllables. of gains and trieSy we shcJuld 
give them the same force we do to the latter 
words, the emphasis and meaning of the sen- 
tence would be entirely lost. Let us take an- 
other example. 

I do not so much request as demand your attention. 

Here the words your attention may be called the 
elliptical words ; for it is by ellipsis only that 
they are omitted after request ; and these words 
must necessarily be pronounced like unaccented 
syllables of the word demand, or the sentence 
will be deprived of its energy. If we pronounce 
these words feebly, the words request and de- 
mand may only have common accented force. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. isd 

and yet the emphatic sense of the sentence "will 
be very perceptible ; but if we pronounce j/oar 
attention with as much force as the words request 
and demand, let us increase the force on these 
latter words as much as we please, we shall find 
it impossible to make the sentence emphaticaL 

Thus we see, that pronouncing the elliptical 
words feebly, and as if they were only unac- 
cented syllables of those to which they belong, 
is of much more importance to the sense of a 
sentence than any additional force on the em- 
phatic word. If it be demanded what is the de- 
gree of force we must give to emphatic words 
when we do bestow this force on them, it may- 
be answered, that this will in a great measure 
depend on the degree of passion with which the 
words are expressed ; but if we have merely an 
eye to the expression of the sense (for express- 
ing the sense of a passage, and expressing the 
passion of it, are very different things) we may 
make the force of the emphatic words exceed 
that of ^the acQented words as much as the ac- 
cented force exceeds the unaccented. 

Having thus shown the nature of accent and 
emphasis, as they are two species of force, and 
endeavoured to evince the necessity of attending 
more to the inflexion of the accent than to any 
greater degree of force upon it; I shall, in the 
next place, give a concise view of the cause of 
emphasis, or that particular meaning in the 
words which requires a more than common 
force in the pronunciation of them. 

What it is that constitutes Emphasis. 

In every assemblage of objects, some will ap- 
pear more worthy of notice than others. In every 



f40 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

(assemblage of ideas, which are pictures of these 
objects, the same difference will certainly reign 
^mong them ; and in every assemblage of words, 
which are pictures of these ideas, we shall find 
/some of more importance than others. It is the 
business of a speaker to mark this importance, 
land, consequently, a good speaker will make hii 
pronunciatioa an exact picture of the words. 
The art of speaking then must principally con- 
sist in arranging each word into its proper clas$ 
of importance, and afterwards giving it a suit- 
able pronunciation^ We have seen, in the last 
article, that the prepositions, conjunctions, and 
smaller words, are generally pronounced like 
i^naccent^d syllables of the nouns, verbs, and 
participles, to which they belong, and that 
these are sometimes pronounced more or less 
forcibly, according to the peculiar meaiUug an-r 
nexed to them. 

Now what is this peculiar meaning in words 
which requires a more than ordinary force in 
pronouncing them, and propejriy denominates 
them emphatical ? This question, however dif^ 
ficult it may appear at first sight, may be an- 
swered in one wordy— opposition. Whenever 
words are contrasted zvithy contradistinguished 
from, pr opposed io^ other words, they are al- 
ways emphatical. When both parts of this op- 
position or contrast are expressed, the emphatic 
words become very obvipus ; as in the foUow-r 
^ng passage from Pope : 

'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 
Appear in writing, or in judging ill : 
But of the two, less dangerous is th'ofience 
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense; 
Some^/ew in that, but numbers err in this; 
^e/i censure wrong, for one who writes ami^» 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 141 

In this passage, every word in Italics may be 
said to be emphatical 5 as every one of these 
words is opposed to some other word, as to its 
correlative or correspondent word. In the se- 
cond linCi judging is opposed to icriting; in the 
fourth, mislead is opposed to tire, and sense ta 
patience i in the fifth, jfei; is opposed to numberr, 
2Lndthis to tbut^ as in the last one, one is op- 
posed to ten, and writes to cejisure ; wrong and 
amiss being only two words for exactly the same 
idea, have no opposition to each other, and there- 
fore cannot be emphatical. 

But when the opposition, in which emphasis 
consists, is elliptical ; that is, when but one part 
of the antithesis is expressed, and the other is to 
be supplied by the understanding, and made out 
by the pronunciation ; when this is the case, I 
say, the emphatic word is not so easily discover- 
ed. Here then we must have recourse to the 
general import of the sentence j and whatever 
word we suppose to be emphatical, must be 
tried, by pronouncing it more forcibly than the 
rest of the words ; and if this pronunciation 
suggests a phrase, which, if inserted in the sen- 
tence, would explain and illustrate it, we may 
be sure that word is emphatical. Let us try to 
make this clear by examples. 

And if each system in gradation roII> 
Alike essential to th' amazing whole; 
The least confusion but in one, not all 
That system oiAy, but the whole must fall. 

In the third line of this passage, we find an uncom- 
mon effort in the author to express ** the strong 
connections, nice dependencies" of one part of 
the general system upon another : and, if we lay 
a strong emphasis on the word oiiCy we shall -find 



14^ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

this connection and dependency very powerfully 
enforced ; for it will suggest this antithesis : *^ the 
least confusion, not in several or a great many 
parts of the universe, but even in one, would 
bring confusion on the whole*" This paraphrase 
we not only find consistent with the sense of the 
poet, but greatly illustrative of it ; and hence 
we may determine the word one to be empha- 
tical. 

Gray's Elegy in a Country Church-yard affords 
us- another striking instance of emphasis, where 
only one part of the antithesis is expressed. 
The writer is foretelling what some hoary-headed 
swain will say of him when he lies nuftibered 
among the unhonoured dead. 

One morn I miss'd him on th' accustom'd hill. 

Along the heath,- aTyl near his fav'rite tree; 
Another came, nor yet beside the rill. 

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he. 
The next with dirges due, in sad array. 

Slow thro' the phurch-way path we saw him borne; 
Approach, and read (for t/toucwist read) the lay, 

Grav'd on the sipnej beneath yon aged thorn. 

Here the words fhou canst are emphatical, as 
they are evidently opposed to / cannot^ which 
are understood ; a very beautiful way of hinting 
the simplicity of the swain from his ignorance of 
the written characters of his language. 

In these instances, the opposition suggested 
by the emphatical word is sufficiently evident 4 
in other cases, perhaps, the antithesis is not quite 
so obvious 5 but if an emphasis can be laid on 
any word, we may be assured that word is in an- 
tj^thesis with some meaning agreeable to the ge- 
neral sense of the passage. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 143 

To illustrate this, let us pronounce a line of 
Marcus, in Catd, where, expressmg his indigna- 
tion at the behaviour of Csesar, he says, 

I'm tortur'd ev*n to madness when I thiftk of the proud 
victor, 

and we shall find the greatest stress fall natural- 
ly on that word which seems opposed to some 
common or general meaning ; for the young 
hero does not say, in the common and unempha- 
tic sense of the word ihinky th^t he is tortured even 
to madness when he thinks on Caesar, but on the 
strong and emphatic sense of this word, which 
implies not only *' w^hen I hear or discourse of 
him, but even when I think of him, I'm tortur'd 
even to madness." 

As the word think therefore rises above the 
common level of signification, it is pronounced 
above the common level of sound ; and as this 
signification is opposed to a signification less 
forcible, the word may be properly said to be 
emphatical.. For we must carefully remember 
that emphasis is that stress zve lay o?i zvords 
which are in opposition or contradistinction tB 
other wordsy expressed or understood. 

For a more exact idea of the nature of empha- 
sis. See Elements of Elocution: Introduction to the 
Theory of Emphasis ^ page 189. 

On the different Forces of Emphatic Words. 

It is impossible not to have observed in the 
last article, that the emphatic words of the lat- 
ter kind, where but one part of the antithesis is 
expressed, are pronounced much more forcibly 
than those wh^re both parts of the antithesis are 
laid down, and the opposition appears at full 



U4 RHETORICAL GRaMmAR; 

length. The reason seems to be this: as emplia^ 
»is always implies opposition, either expressed 
or understood, when this opposition is express*^ 
ed it is sufficiently obvious, and needs not a 
indre forcible pronunciation than accented wordd 
to make it perceived ; but when only one em- 
phatic word is expressed^ and the other under- 
stood^ it is necessary to increase the force upon 
the word expressed, that what is in opposition 
to it, and is not expressed, may become more 
obvious and intelligible. 

If these observations are just, We see an evi- 
dent reason why most of those books which 
mark the emphatical words in Italics iliake al- 
most every significant word emphatical; and 
why this practice is so much decried by others, 
as a useless multiplication of emphasis: — both 
these parties are in the right. The former per- 
ceiving great numbers of words in opposition to 
each other, very properly considered them as 
emphatical ; and perceiving at the same time^ 
that almost every substantive, adjective^ and 
verb, had as much force in the pronunciation as 
these emphatical words, they knew not how to 
draw the line between them, and so marked 
them all indiscriminately as emphatical. The 
latter finding that very few words were pro- 
nounced more forcibly than the words we have 
just been describing, concluded that very few 
words were emphatical, because so few were to 
be pronounced more forcibly than the rest. 
Thus, for want of a distinction between the two 
kinds of emphatic words, neither party seems to 
have understood where the fault lay. 

It must be confessed, however, that the prac* 
tice of marking so many words in Italics, as em- 



RiiEtORlCAl, GRAMMAR. US 

phatical^ without distinguishing between em- 
phasis expressedy and emphasis understood; ana 
without telling us precisely the degree of force 
to be given to the words unmarked, was a much 
greater source of error than denying emphasis 
to such words as had no more force than com- 
mon substantives, adjectives, and verbs. The 
latter opinion would at least leave the under- 
standing to judge for itself, while the former 
would often mislead it. Marking every signifi- 
cant word as emphatical tends greatly to give 
a turgid and bombastic pronunciation to com- 
mon words, at the same time that it lessens our 
attention to such as really deserve extraordinary 
force. This cannot be better explained than 
by quoting a passage from one of the best books 
of this kind, and making a few observations on 
it. The passage I intend to consider is. the 
latter part of Pope's prologiie to Cato, as I find 
it in the Art of Speaking, p. 86. 

JBritofu, attend / be worth like this approved. 

And show yoa have the virtue to be mao'd. 

With kmiest scorn the first famM Cato viewed 

Home learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd. 

Owr scene precariously subsists too lo?ig 

On Freitch translation and Italian song. 

Dare to have sense yourselves : assert the stage : ^ 

IBe justly xoann'd with your own native rage. 

Such plays alone should please a British eao 

As Cato's self had not disdain' d to hear. 

This passage is in general pretty accurately 
marked ; but if we conceive the words in Ro- 
man letters to have exactly the same force as the 
unaccented syllables of the others, we shall soo'n 
see that many significant words are thrown too 
much into the shade. I know it will be said 
that these significant words, though they have 



U6 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

not the force of the marked words, are still to 
have a sufficient degree of force to express their 
meaning. But this is the very error I am com- 
bating: this is the vague indefinite rule that 
echoes through all our books of this kind : this 
is the old asylum of ignorance and idleness, the 
constant resource of those who, for want of 
ideas, pay us with words. The truth is, we 
must necessarily give these words the same force 
as the other words, or pnly the force of unac- 
cented syllables^ between these two forces there 
is no medium. The line is drawn by nature be- 
tween accent and no accent; and unless we stu- 
diously strive to do it, we cannot help striking 
the two forces in exact proportion to each other. 
If we pronounce the accented syllable stronger, 
the unaccented will be stronger likewise, and 
inversely. Those, therefore, who pronounce the 
accented syllable too feebly, will be too feeble 
in those that are unaccented ; but we need only 
make them enforce the former, and the latter 
will be infallibly rectified. 

An Examination of the Propriety of marking the 
Wards in the foregoing Passage^ 

The word this^ in the first line, is certainly 
entitled to as much force as zvorth and approved f- 
and shozvy in the next line, to as much as virtue 
SLudnioved, Honest scorn, in the third line, is 
impassioned, and will admit of emphasis above 
the accented words, as it may, very agreeably 
to the sense, be supposed to have this anti- 
thesis : not merely zvith dislike, but tcvith scorn. 
The word,/?r^/, in the same line, may be said to 
be emphatical in thfe same manner, as it points 



iiHMtoRiCAL Grammar. UI 

but Cafe tlie Censery in opposition W Cato of 
Uticay the hero of the prologue; In the fifths 
the words precariously isubHsts must necessarily 
have more force than so many unaccented sylla- 
bles, and ought Aerefore to have been in Ita- 
lics, as well as the words too long. The sixth 
line needs no comment; every significant word 
is in opposition to another word, and is there- 
fore emjJhatical. But in the next line, the word 
yourselves, which is opposed to others, not ex- 
pressed (see pp. 139, 140, 141, &Ci) and there- 
fore highly emphatical ; this wotd^ I say, is not 
distinguished from the word sense, or any other 
words that have coipmon force, and is there- 
fore confounded with them ; whereas this word 
ought to have as much more force than the ac- 
cented words as they have more than the un- 
accented. The next line affords us an error 
of tne same kind : the word native is empha- 
tical, as it is opposed to foreign, not express- 
ed, and therefore ought to have extraordinary 
force. The word rage, which is the elliptical 
word (see pp. 141, 142, 143, &c.) common' both 
to foreign and native, ought no more to have the 
force of native, than if the antithesis had been 
expressed at length, in this manner : ** Be justly 
warmed, not with foreign rage, but with your 
own native rage :" nor can we possibly pro- 
nounce rage with the same force as native with- 
out depriving native of its emphasis. Let it 
not be .objected that rage is too significant a 
word to be sunk into an unaccented syllable of 
native ; for if native be pronounced with its pro- 
per force, rage, though unaccented, will be 
more forcible than an unaccented syllable of a 
mer'ely accented word. The last line affords an 

L 2 



14* RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

opportunity of strengthening the former obser- 
vations, by some which are very similar, and 
founded on the same reasons. The word self^ in 
this line, is highly emphatical, as such an em- 
phasis suggests this meaning: " Such plays 
alone should please a British ear, not only as a 
person of good sense and nice morals would 
approve, but such as even Cato himself would 
approve;'* for this meaning is not only agreeable 
to the sense of the author, but greatly enforces 
and illustrates it. 



A nexv Method of marking the different Forces of 

Words. 

From the analysis given in the last Lesson of 
a passage from Pope, we plainly perceive how 
delicate a thing it is to mark the emphatic words 
properly, and how easily we may be misled by 
the generality of books in use. Advocate, there- 
fore, as I am for the occasional use of marks, I 
am far from recommending them on all occa- 
sions. Many things may be useful at certain 
times, and on certain occasions, which, if used 
indiscriminately, would be incommodious and • 
embarrassing. Dividing words of difficult pro- 
nunciation into syllables may sometimes be use-^ 
ful, even to those who read well ; but dividing 
every word into syllables, would be so far from 
iassisting such a reader, that it would be the 
surest way to embarrass and perplexhim. Italics, 
therefore, may be very usefully employed in 
printing, to mark emphasis, where it is not obvi- 
ous, or where the sense of a passage might be 
mistaken for want of knowing it: but where the 
language is plain, and the meaning obvious, Ita- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 149 

lies are not only useless, but distressing to the 
reader. From the want of a clear idea of the 
nature of emphasis, and of the difference be- 
tween accented and unaccented force, those 
who mark books for pronunciation, think they 
have never done enough till they have put every 
single significant word into Italics. For as no 
distinction of. force is settled between these 
words, and as every one is supposed to have a 
certain indefinite degree of force, the writer ima- 
gines he has done wonders in showing how 
much force a few words are susceptible of; and 
the reader, who is struck with the sight of so 
jnuch force in so small a compass, has not the 
least doubt of the emphasis of every one of these 
words, if he did but know how to pronounce 
them: thus, by endeavouring to give every 
word an emphatic force, he deprives those words 

# that are really emphatical of the force which be- 
longs to them, and distorts and adulterates the 
meaning by a quaint and unnatural pronuncia* 
tion. 

But had we once a clear and distinct idea of 
emphasis, did we consider how few words are 

- so emphatical as to require a greater force than 
accented words, that every accented word has 
an equal degree of force, and that those that are 
not accented have exactly the force of unac- 
cented syllables; with these principles in view, 
I say, we might construct a notation, which, it 
is presumed, would convey a clearer idea of the 
several forces of speaking sounds than any that 
has hitherto been hit upon. Let us, for exam- 
ple, take the foregoing passage from Pope ; let 
us consider the less significant words as unac- 
cented syllables of the others, and associate 

L 3 



l$0 RHETORICAL GKAM^AK. 

them together accordingljr : aifd let us mark; 
^hese words only, which have emphasis sronger 
than accent, with a different character: 

Britons^ attend ! ' beworth liTce^liis approv'd, 
\ Andsho^ youhavethevirtOB tobemov'd. 
Withhonest 'scoria the^r^^am^d^toview'd 
i Rome learningarts from Greece, whomshesubdu'd, 

Owrscene precariously subsists too I6ng 
OnFrench translation andltalian d6hg. ' 
, ': Dare tohavesen8eyour«r/zv«; assert the^tage; ^ 

Bejuslly warmed wittiyourown nativeiiage, 
Suchplays alone shouldplease aBritisliesLV, 
AsCato s self had not disdain'd tohear. 

But if writing words in . this manner shpul4 
be found troublesome, or appear too much tq 
disguise them, we need only but a hyphen be- 
tween the accented and unaccented words, and 
the sanje effect will be produced ; that is, the 
whole assemblage will seem but one word ; by 
which means we shall have an exact idea of the 
relative force of each. Thus, the foregoing pasi 
sage may be marked in the manner following : 

Britons, attend 1 be-worth like-this approved, 
And-show you-have-the-virtue tp-be-movM • 
With-honest scam the-iirst-fam'd-Cato-view'd 
.Rome learning-arts from-Greece, whoin-^she-subdu'd, 
Oiir-scene precariously subsists too long 
On-French translation, and*Italian song. 
. pare tQ-haVe-^sense-your^tf/wtf ; ass<ert the-stage ; 
Be-justly yvarm'd with-your-own natvce-rage. 
Such-plays alone should-please a.-British-ea.T^ 
As-Cato's self had-not disdain'd to-hear. 

Let it not be imagined that this mode of print-? 
ing is proposed as a model in all cases for teach- 
ing to read : no ; such unusual combinations 
might, instead of improving some pupils, per- 
plex and retard them; but there are others, to 
whom this associatipn may be highly useful ii^ 



/ 



RHETORJCAL GRAMMA|L. IM 

giving them a (:le;ar and distinct idea of tbe 
.three kinds of force, of which all composition is 
susceptible ; and this, it is presmned, is better 
performed by this than by any method hitherto 
made known to us. 



Another Method of marking the different Forces 

of Words. 

Erom the pfiethod of marking thfe words we 
have just proposed, it is impossible not to have 
taken Botice of a circumstance which arises from 
it, and -which, if properly attended to, will set 
the utility of this method in a still stronger light; 
and that is, the classification that necessarily fol- 
lows the uniting of unaccented words to those 
that are accepted, as if they were syllables of 
them : this classification naturally divides a sear 
tence into just so many portions as there are ac- 
cents. Thus, in the sentence before quoted. 

Prosperity | gains friends, | and adversity J tries them, y 

there are four portions,, and these portions to an 
ear unacquainted with the language would seem 
to be exactly so maiiy words. Here then is a 
new principle of dividing sentences independent 
on the pauses, and* which cannot fail to convey 
to us a clear idea of pronunciation. It has been 
before observed, that the emphasis which re- 
quires more force than the accented words but 
seldom occurs, and that when it does occur, the 
sense of the passage depends much more on the 
inflexion we give to the emphatic word, than on 
the force we pronounce it with. To these ob- 
servations it may be added, that, when there is 
no uncommon emphasis in a sentence, we may 

l4 



153 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

often pronounce it with more or fewer accents, 
without materially affecting the sense. Thus, in 
the following sentence. Pitch upon that course of 
life which is the most excellent^ and custom will 
make it the most delightful — Spect. N*" 447. the 
two words excellent and delightful are contrasted 
with e^ch other, and therefore may be said to b^ 
etnphatical ; but the emphasis on these words, 
it is evident, requires no more force than several 
others in the sentence. Now this sentence, 
without any injury to the sense of it, may be 
pironounced only in four portions ; the four words 
that, excellent r customj and delightful, havmg ac^ 
eented force, and the rest unaccented; as if 
written in the following manner: 

Pitchuponthatcourseoflife | whichisthemostjexcellent | 
andctistoin | willmakeitthemostdeDghtfalf 

Or it may be prpijounced in ten portions, with 
no other alteration in the sense than to renr 
der it upon the whole more sententious and 
emphatical, thus. 

Pitch j uponthat | course | of life | whichisthemost I 
. . Excellent, | andcitstpm | wiUitnakeit | themost | dellghtfuf. 

IVhere we see the sole difference between the 
former and latter pronunciation of this passage 
Jies in giving acpented force to four words in the 
one, and to t^n in the other, 

It must not be imagined that these divisions 
always indicate pauses: no; this distinction into 
portions is the separatipn of a sentence into its 
accentual impulses; and these impulses, though 
no pause intervenes, are as muph distinguished 
by the ear as the portions separated by a pause, 
Thus the ear perceives as great a differenp^ be? 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 15$ 

tween the first manner of pronouncing the words 
mostj where they sound like unaccented sylla- 
bles of the words excellent and delightful^ and the 
last, where they have an independent accent, as 
it would do to have a pause inserted or omitted 
in any other part of the sentence. 

This classification of words seems pregnant 
with instruction : by applying it to sentences of 
difficult pronunciation, we -give the pupil a di- 
stinct idea of the different forces of words, and 
by these means convey him to that idea of them 
which we think the best. Let us suppose we 
wanted to instruct a pupil in the true emphatic 
force of a passage in Pope's Essay on Man^ 
where the poet is inquiring after happiness. 

Pl4nt I of celestial | s^d> | if dr^pp'd | belowr. 
Say I in what mortal | soil | thou d^ign'st | togr^w? 
Fair op'ning ( to some c6urfs propitious shrine. 
Or deep jwitli diamonds | ip the fi^mine | m)ne? 
Twin'd I with the wreaths | Parnissian feiurels yield. 
Or r^p'd J m Iron | hirvests | of the fi81d;-- — i 
Fix'd to i)o spot I is happiness | sincere, 
'TIS powhere to pe found, | or everywhere. 

If we wished to explain our sense of the man- 
ner in which this passage ought to be read, could 
we possibly take a better method than this of 
dividing it into such portions as are each of them 
pronounced like single words ? In this mode of 
marking the lines, each word has its degree of 
force settled by the easiest method in the world, 
that of accented or unaccented syllibles ; and if 
to these accents are added the slide, or inflexion, 
with which every accent is necessarily pro- 
nounced, we have a notation of speaking sounds 
that gives tis as infallibly the leading notes of 
$pee9l> as the notes of music convey to us the 



J 54 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 

r 

tune of a song ; the graces and beauties of sing- 
ing and speaking must be conveyed by the liv- 
ing voice to the ear, but this does not preclude 
in either the utility of marks to the^eye. 

But though I would by no means recommend 
this association of words as a common lesson for 
youth, I aip well persuaded that, on some occa- 
sions, it may be very useful to explain the pro^ 
nunciation of some difficult passages by it. A 
^ youth will have a m.ucli clearer idea of the force 
he is to give to the subordinate worids of a sen- 
tence, by considering them as syllables of the 
other words, than by any other explanigition we 
can make use of; and in order tp^ impress this 
idea, it may not be ipiproper to write or mark 
phrases, with the words thus associated. 

Utility of und€r$ta7iding tlie different Slides^ and 
different Forces of Words, : 

In the $ame manner I would recommend the 
use of accents, to mark the different slides of the 
voice. Where the language is smooth, and the 
jneai^ing clear, any kind of marks would do 
more hurt than good ; but where the language 
is uncouthp and the meaning obscure, nothing 
can be niore certain than the usefulness of some 
marks to direct the voice in the pronunciation. 
Let us illustrate this by some passages from Dr. 
Young. Speaking of the folly of those who de-s 
lay an araendment of their lives, he ^ys. 

How exoeflent that life they ne'er will les^d ! ^ 
Time k>dg'd in their own hands is ibll/s f»lcs ; 
That lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign : 
The things they can't but purpose they postpone. 

This passage will lose much of its ^le^ixiess^ an4 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 155 

all its beauty, if the vrordfate^s, in the third line, 
is hot pronounced with the falling inflexion: 
this inflexion will strongly mark the tolly of con- 
signing to wisdom, or using widely, what is not 
in their own hands, but in the hands of fate. 

The two following lines in this passage aflbrd 
another opportunity of show ng how imjx)rtant 
to the sense is a particular inflexion on a parti- 
cular word. ' 

^TJs not in folly not to -scorn a fod; 
^nd scarce in human wisdom to do more« 

If we do not give folly the lemphasis with thtf 
falling inflexion, the thought will be scarcely 
intelligible. The same may be observed of the 
word thertiselves^ \n the second line of the follow- 
ing passage : 

All men think all men mortal but themselves: 
Thems^ves, when some alarming sliock of fate 
Strikes through their wpunded hearts the sudden dread. 

The following passage will afford an instance of 
the necessity of adopting the other inflexion on 
a particular word, in order to elucidate and fix 
the meaning. The poet, speaking of the origi- 
nal grandeur of the passions, says. 

What though our passions are run mad, and stoop 

With low terrestrial appetite, to graze 

On trash, on toys, dethron'd from high desire; 

Yet still through their disgrace, no fSeble ray 

Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell. 

If we do not give the word feeble the en(iphasis 
with the rising inflexion, we shall be led to sup- 
pose that not even a feeble ray of greatness 
shines: a sense directly contrary to the scope of 
the author. 



156 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Milton, who, from hisfondness forthe ancients, 
frequently departs widely from the idiom of his 
own language, affords us frequent instances of 
the necessity of attending nicely to the infle;Kion 
of voice with which we read, in order to pre- 
serve his meaning. Thus, where he is describ- 
ing the fallen angels as sensible of the misery of 
their state, while they are gathering round tneir 
leader, he says. 

Nor did they not perceive the evil plight 

In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel. 

The words not in this passage must necessarily 
have the emphasis with the rising inflexion, as 
this specific emphasis is the only way of render- 
ing the sense or the passage intelligible* 

As a further proof of the necessity of distin- 
guishing emphasis into two kinds, and of having 
a distinct and different mark for each, we need 
only attend to the pronunciation of the follow- 
ing passage from the same author, where h? 
describes Satan's surprise at the sight and ap- 
proach of the figure of Death. 

* 

S^tan was now at hand, and from his seat 
The monster moving, onward came as fast 
With horrid strides ; hell trembled as he strode. 
Th* undaunted fiend what this might be admir'di 
' Admlr'd, not fS^r'd : pod, and his son except, 

Created thing nought valued he nor shunn'd > 
And, with disdainful look, thus first began. 

Par, Lost, b. ii, v. 674. 

There are few readers, who, in pronouncing 
this passage, would not give admir'd, in the fifth 
line, the rising slide, ^nafear'd the falling ; but 
nothing can be more evident than that this does 
not bring out the sense of the passage with half 
the force of a contrary position or the slides. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, U7 

The falling slide on adviir'dy and the risii^ on 
fear'dy is agreeable to the general rule the ear 
always follows, in pronouncing positive and ne- 
gative members, when it is unembarrassed by 
the intricacies of poetic language. Thus we see 
it is of little consequence to tell us a word is em- 
phatical, unless the kind of emphasis is speci- 
fied, and when this is done we find the sense of 
a passage is determined. 

I shall conclude these observations, on the 
utility of marks, by . showing the very different 
sense of a sentence according to the different 
force and inflexion which is given to its several 
parts. When we take our leave of a person, we 
sometimes make use of the following sentence : 

I toi^ you all the fuippit$ess this world can afford,. 

If we lay an equal stress upon the words wishj 
ally happinessy this, world, and afford, and pro- 
nounce the rest like unaccented syllables of 
these, we shall find a sense implying that this 
world can afford" great happiness; but if we lay 
an emphasis with the falling inflexion on all, 
and one with the rising on happiness, and pro- 
' nounce the rest of the words like unaccented 
syllables of these, as if they were written in the 
following manner: 

Iwishyovuztfthehappiness | f A/iW0^1dcana£ford : 

Or thus, 

I-wish-you-rt/i-the-happiness | ^Alf-world-can-afford *. 



* In the first method of pronouncing this sentence, it seems 
to the ear to contain as many words as there are accents ; 
viss. six* In the last^ the sentence seems to consist only of two 
very long word», because there are in reality no mote tbdn 
two accents in it. 



158 ItHETORlCAL GRAMMAR. 

In this case, I say, we shall find a very different 
sense produced ; for it will strongly intimate that 
this world has very little happiness to afford. 

If these observations are just, we may per- 
ceive what great advantages we might reason- 
ably expect from such a knowledge of the voice 
as would enable us to comprehend and practise 
the distinction of force, and the two-fold distinc- 
tion of inflexions here laid down. We should 
then have a language in which we might con- 
verse intelligibly on different modes of pronun- 
ciation: we could tell the reader plainly and 
simply, that such words require one species of 
force and. inflexion, and such words another, 
without having recourse to such vague and in- 
determinate directions as saying, that ** he must 
pronounce some words with emphasis, but not 
so as to deprive others of a certain degree of it." 
Whoever is curious to see the obscurity which 
a want of these distinctions occasions, may con- 
sult some of our best writers on this subject, 
where they dispute with each other about the 
pronunciation of certain passages. Here he may 
see how men may wrangle without end, and ^ 
each seem to have the victory, when they neither 
understand each other, nor even themselves, for 
want of precise and definite terms. 

RULES. FOR READING VERSE. 

On the Slides or Inflexions of Verse. 

The first general rule for reading verse is, 
that we ought to give it that measured harmo- 
nious flow of sound which distinguishes it from 
prose, without falling into a bombastic, chant- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 159 

ing pronunciation, ^irhich makes it ridiculous- 
This medium, like all others where excellence 
resides, is not very easy to hit j and here, as in 
similar cases, the worst extreme must be avoid- 
ed. For this purpose, it will not be improper, 
before we read verse with its poetical graces, to 
pronounce it exactly as if it were prose : this will 
be depriving verse of its beauty, but will tend 
to preserve it from deformity : the tones of voice 
will be frequently different, but the inflexions 
will be nearly the same. 

But though an elegant and harmonk)Us pro- 
nunciation of verse will sometimes oblige us to 
adopt different inflexions from those we use in' 
prose, it may still be laid down as a good gene- 
ral rule, that verse requires the same inflexions 
as prose, though less strongly marked, and more 
apprpaching to monotones. If, therefore, we 
are at a loss for the true inflexion of voice on 
any word in poetry, let us reduce it to earnest 
conversation, and pronounce it in the most fa- 
miliar and prosaic manner, and we shall, for the 
most part, fall into those very inflexions we 
ought to adopt in repeating verse. 

This observation naturally leads us to a rule, 
which may be justly looked upon as the funda- 
mental principle of all poetic pronunciation; 
which is, that wherever a sentence, or member 
of a sentence, would necessarily require the fall- 
ing inflexion in prose, it ought always to have 
the same inflexion in poetry; for though, if we 
were to read verse prosaically, we should often 
place the falling inflexion where the style of 
verse would require the rising, yet in those 
parts where a portion of perfect sense, or the 
conclusion of a sentence, necessarily requires 



160 AHETORtCAL OkAMMAR. 

the fallinfi' inflexion^ the same inflexion must be 
adopted ooth in verse and prose. Thus iji 
Milton's description of the deluge^ in Paradise 
Lost: 

Meanwhile the south-wind rose, and, with bhick wings 

Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove 

From under heav'n : the hills, to tlieir supply. 

Vapour and exhalation dusk and moist 

Sent up amain : and now the thick Vd sky 

like a dark cieling stood ; down rush'd the raiif 

Impetuous, and continued till the earth 

No more was seen ; the floating vessel swam 

Uplifted, and secure with beaked prow 

Rode tilting o'er the waves. 

Par. I/fst, b. xi. v. 73S, . 

In this passage, every member forming per- 
fect sense, if read as so many lines of prose, 
would end with the falling slide, and this is the 
slide they ought to end with in verse. The 
member, indeed, which ends with impetuous, 
oueht to have the rising slide ; because, though 
it forms perfect sense, it is followed by a member 
which does not form sense by itself, and for this 
reason would necessarily adopt the rising slide 
if it were prose. 

In the same manner, though we frequently 
suspend the voice by the rising inflexion in 
verse, where, if the composition were prose, we 
should adopt the falling, yet, wherever in prose 
Ae member or sentence would necessarily re- 
quire the rising inflexion, this inflexion must 
necessarily be adopted in verse. An instance of 
all these, cases may be found in the following 
example from Pope : 

He^ who through vast immensity can pierc. 
See worlds on worlds compose one universe -, 



i 



RHETORICAL ORaMMAR. 



161 



Observe how system into s jstem ttLUi, 
What other planets circle otlier suns ; 
Whit vary'd being peoples ev'ry star; 
May tell why heav'n has made us ks we ar^. 
But of this/frame, the bearings, and the ties. 
The strong connexions, nice dependencies. 
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul 
ILook'd tlirpugh ? or can a part contain the whote ? 

Is the great chain, that araws all to agr^e. 
And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee ? 

Pap^s Esaeof on Mak^ 

If this passaee were prose, every line but the 
fifth might end with the falling inflexion j but 
the fifth being that where the two principal con- 
structive parts nnite^ aiid the sense begins to . 
form, here, both in prose and verse, must be the 
principal pause, and the rising inflexion. The 
two questions with whiph the ninth and tenth 
line end ought to have the rising inflexion also, 
as this is the inflexion they would necessarily 
have in prose ; though from injudiciously print- 
ing the last couplet, so as to form a fresh para* 
graph, the word whole is generally pronounced 
^ith the falling inflexion, m order to avoid fjie 
bad etfect of a question with the rising inflexi<Hi 
at the end of a paragraph j which wpuld be lef- 
fectually prevented by uniting the last couplet 
to the rest, so as to form one whole portioq, 
and which was undoubtedly the. intention of tUe 
poet. 

Having premised these observations^ I shajl 
endeavour to throw together a few rules fpr the 
readingof verse, which, by descending to par- 
ticulars, it is hoped will be more useful than 
those very general ones which are commonly 
to be met with on this subject, and which, 
though very ingenious, seem calculated rather 



M 



162 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

for the making of verses than the reading of 

them. 

Of the Accent and Emphasis of Verse. 

Rule I. In verse, every syllable must have 
the same accent, and every word the same em- 
phasis, as in prose; for though the rhythmical 
arrangement of the' accent and emphasis is the 
very definition of poetry, yet, if this arrangement 
tends to give an emphasis to veords which would 
:have none in prose, or an accent to such sylla- 
bles as have properly no accent, the rhythmus, or 
music of the verse, must be entirely neglected. 
Thus the article the ought never to have a stress, 
thgugh placed in that part of the verse where 
the^ ear expects^ ajv^ccent. 

EXAMPLE. 

Of all the cailses which conspire to bUnd 

Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind. 

What the we^ head with strongest bias rules. 

Is pride, the never failing vice of fools. Pope. 

An injudicious reader of ver$e would be very 
apt to lay a stress upon the article the in the 
third line, but a good reader would neglect the 
stress on this, and transfer it to the words tvhat 
ztiAxceak. Thus also, in the following exanl- 
•ple; no stress must be laid on the word (>/i be- 
cause wc should not give it any in prosaic pro- 
enunciation. 

Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made 

Taller aiid stronger than the weeds they shade; Pope. 

Fpf the same reason the word asy either in 
the first or second line of the following couplet 
ought to have no stress. 



RHETORIGAL GRAMMAR.^^ WS 

I^e nature's walks; shoot folly as ii fiifes, • • 

And catcli the manners living as they rise. Pifpe, r 

The last syllable of the word excelle?it,' in the 
following couplet, being the place of the stress, 
is very apt to draw the reader to a wrong pro* 
nunciati6n of the word, in compliance with the 
rhythmus of the verse. . 

Their praise is still, the style is excellent: 

The sense they humbly take upon content. Popd 

But a stress upon the last syllable of this word 
must be avoided, as the most childish and ridicu- 
lous pronunciation in the World. The same 
may be observed of the word eloquence and the 
particle the in the f jllowing couplet: 

False. eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 

Itt gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry plaCe. Pope* 

If, in compliance with the rhythmus, or tune of 
the verse, we lay a stress on the last syllable of 
eloquence, and on the particle the in the first . of 
. these verses, to a go(id judge of reading scarcely 
any thing c^n be conceived more disgusting. 



When the Poetical Accent is to be preserved, and 

when not. 

Rule II. One of the most puzzling varieties 
in reading verse is that w^hich is occasioned by 
the poet's placing a word in such a part of the 
line as is quite inconsistent with the metre of 
the verse. It is one of the most general rules in 
reading, that every word is to have the same ac- 
cent in verse that it has in prose. This rule, how- 
ever, admits of some few exceptions. Many of 
our good poets have sometimes placed words so 

M 2 



IM RHETOWCAL GRAMMAR. 

tinfavourably for pronunciation in the confimofn 
way, that the ear would be less disgusted with 
an alteration of the common accent for the sake 
of harmony, than with a pre$eryatioB of this ac« 
cent with harshness and .discord ; for, in some 
^ase^, by preserving the conamon accent^ we not 
only reduce the lines to prose, but to very harsh 
and disagreeable prose. Thus we cannot he«- 
tate a moment at placing the accent on the first 
syllable of expert in the follqwing line of Pope, 
uiough contrary to its prosaic pronunciation : 

TheA fell Seamandrius, eicpert in the cfaace. 

But it wiO be demanded, is the ear the only rule, 
when we are to pronounce one way and whett 
another? It may be answered 5 this is the best 
rule for those who have good ears; but like most 
of the rules given on this subject, it amounts tQ 
no rule at all. To offer something tike a Jrule 
therefore, where there is none, will not be unac-^ 
^eptable to those at least who have not ears suf- 
ficiently delicate to direct themsehres^ and those * 
who have will not be displeased to fitid a rea- 
son given for such a choice of accent as they 
approve. 

And first, let us try the diifferent eflPects which 
these disjointed and inharmoniously accented 
words have on the ear (for unquestionably the3r 
s^re not all equally disagreeable), and that pey- 
haps tnay lead us to something like a rule foy 
directing us when we are to comply with tii^ 
poetical accent, and when not. 

In the first place, let us bring tpget^r words 
of two syllables, with the a^ceqt pn the firsts 
which the poet has trai^sferr^d to tla^ la$t« 



RHETORICAli GRAMMAR. 18S 

Who now triumpfu, and in th' excess of joy-^ JP. L. u 123. 

In their tripU degrees^ regions to whic h Ibid, xi. 140. 

Which of us who beholds the bright surfire. Ibid, vi. 47 2. 

Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate. Ibid, 8il> 

ffi^le he created thee ; but thy corw^ir^— Ibid, vii. 5f 9. 

Not bl incur; but soOn his clear aspSct, Ibid, 336. 

Beyond ah past example SLndJut{ir€. Ibid, 840. 

To do Ought good iiev^ will be our task. Ibid, i, 1 5^. 

Moors by his side uniSr the lee^ while night— « Ibid, 207* 

Abject and lost lay these covYing the flood. Ibid. 312. 

G%>d$> yek confessed later than heav'n and earth. Ibid. 509. 

iCbftse other two ^qudl^d with me in &te. Ibid. iii. 33^ 

Atd floVrs aloft si&a(f% the fount of life. IMd. 357. 

'Second to thee offSr'd himself to die. Ibid. 409. 

Which tasted, works hnowUdgc of good and- evil. 

Ibid, vii. 545. 

To whom with healing words, Ad&rn repl/d. Ibid, ix. 290. 

Grateful to heav'n; &oir his head behold Ibid, 354« 

Preserving the poetical accent on many of these 
words would be merely turning them into ridi- 
cule, and, therefore, every reader who has the 
least delicacy of feeling" will certainly preserve 
the coinra.6n accent of these words on the first 
syllable, ai)d let the m^tre of the line shift for 
itself. 

In the next place, let us adduce such words 
itf tWD syllables as h^ve a contrary transposition 
of accent^ that is, such as have the common ac* 
cent on the la$t syllable, which the poet removes 
to the first. 

Next Chernov, th' dbscene dread of Moab's sonsy P,£. u 1 tS» 
And sat as princes, whom the ^dpreme king» Ibid, 73^, 
Encamp tiieir legions, or with dbscurc wing. Ibid, ii. 132. 
Our 9iipremc &^ i^ time may much relent* Ibid. 2iQr 

m3 



166 'RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Of mankind in one root, and earth with helL P. /-. i. 3 1 3. 
In cSnJin'd march, forlorn, th* adven'trous bands. Ibid. 615. 
Forth rush the levant and the ponent winds. Ibid. x. 704-. 

In placing the accent on the first syllable instead 
of the second on these words, as the poet has 
don^, we find no such harshness to the ear as in 
the former examples, and I think we may there- 
fore conclude" that something like a rule is dis- 
, covered re"specting words of two syllables. 

The management of the misaccented words of 
three syllables is not perhaps so easy. After 
trying every possible way to reconcile th€ ac- 
cent and the metre, I have not been able to con- 
ceive a better method than that of compromis- 
ing the demands of each. Perhaps the least 
offensive method to the ear of preserving the 
accent, and not entirely violating the quantity, 
would be to place an accent on the syllable im- 
mediately preceding that on which the poet 
has misplaced it, without dropping that which 
is so misplaced 3 by this means the wOrd will be 
heard with the true accent, which will in some 
measure abate the impropriety of the false one ; 
and thus, by the succession of two accents, we 
shall only seem to be enforcing the sense, while 
we are really hiding the fault of the measure. 
Thus the word blasphemous may be accented 
both on the first and second syllable i*— 

' Q argument blasphemous, false, and proud ! P. X. v. S09. 
Refrain'd his tongue &/rt5p/iaw(7tt5/ but anon— Ibid.vu 360. 

Here the ear feels no great impropriety, espe- 
ciaH^ 'as this word is still accented by many 
speakers (though of the lower ordier) on the 
second' syllable; But the y^ords odoroiis^ 



Rhetorical cRAMMAk. 



167 



tfifinitej and voluble, accented by Milton on the 
second syllable, must be nicely managed in or- 
der to prevent a cacophony. 

Spirits odorous breathes ; flow'rs, and their fruit— 

P.L, V. 482. 
Hoarse murmur echo'd to his words applause 
Through the infinite host* Jbid, 87 4f. 



•Whether the prime orb. 



Incredible how swift, had thither roU'd ' 

Diurnal ; or this less voluble earth. 

By shorter flights to th' east, had left him there. Jbid^ 

The same rule seems to hold good where the 
poet has placed' the accent on the first and last 
syllable of a word which ought to have it on the 
middle syllable. 



.•"•"■^P^PW. 



-and as is due 



With glory attributed to the high 
Creator? 

Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute 
Each orb a glimpse of light. 



P. Z. viii. 12. 



Jbid, 155. 



Shoots invisible virtue, e'en to the deep. Ibid. iii. 586, 

If any thing can render the pronunciation of this 
very unpoetic line tolerabk, it must be placing 
the accent on the first and third syllable ot 
invisible. 

After all the attention that can possibly be 
paid to many of these rugged lines, rugged 
they will still rejnain ; and when the reader has 
done his best to make them as smooth as pos-< 
sible, the author is justly chargeable with the 
want of poetic harmony. Dr. Vi^atts, who to 
learning and judgment united a poetical ear,' 
directs us, in his rules for reading verse, sp to 

M 4 



tea RHETOWCAL GIIAMMAR. 

Ikroor the rhynne as to pronounce tj^e wari 
liberty either as Ubertee or, libertiti just as it 
rhjrmes with the tod of the former line, Tliusj 

" Were I but once from bondage/ree 
*« I'd never tell my lihetty. 

*' Here/' h# saySj " I must pronounce thfe word 
** //fttf/*<^ as if it were written with a dduble ee^ 
" Ubertee y to rhyme with the word free. But if 
** the verse rah thus. 



40 



My seal ^iseends above the sfy. 
And triumphs in her liberty. 



^ iTie word liberty must be soUtided as ending 
** in i, that sky may have a juster rhyme to it. 

But as this compliance with the rhyme is now 
justly exploded, such verses as these ought ne- 
ver to appedr in any modem poetry. The ear of 
a foreigner (which, as Mr. Addison observes, is 
perhaps the best judge in this case) is sho<^ked 
beyond measure at such verses i and natives 
only bear them because they are accustomed to 
them. How strangely do two lines that rhyme 
appear in blank verse where we do not expect 
th6ni? and can such lines, as have no agrtetement 
in sound, appear less strange when a rhyme 
is expected? Certainly not. But as judicious 
readers of the present day would rather the 
vei-se should appear strange by hot rhyming, 
than strange by altering the accent or sound of 
a word, ^o, in a choice of evils, the less seems 
to be that of preserving as much as possible 
the proper accent in blank verse, and making 
the poet answet^able for the rest : but, as we 
have observed above, if there are cases in which 
the poet may be favoured without departing too 



i 

p 

i 



I 



V 



I 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAIL IW 

i;v^idely from general usage, it is i&cilmbent eat 
the reader to pronounce his author to the best 
advantage, not only by heightening his beauties^ 
but, as much as possible, by hiding his faults. 

I am indebted to the Rev. Mr. Robiertson, 
ih his elegant Essaj on the Nature of EngU^ 
Vers^, for maily or the examples I have made 
lise of, as well as for many judicious observa- 
tions on them ; and have niuch to regret, that 
a gentleman of his real learning and good taste 
did not carry his observations farther. 

Rule III. Hdto the Vowels e and o are to bepjxh 
flounced^ when apostrophised. 

The vowel e, which, in poetry, is so often cut 
off by ah apostrophe in the word the^ and in 
unaccepted syllables before r, as dangWous^ 
gefCfouSy &c. ou^ht always to be preserved in 
pronunciation, because the syllable it forms is 
so short as to admit of being sounded with the 
fiucceedin^ syllable, so as not to increase the 
nutnber or syllables to the ear, or at all to hurt 
the melody, 

Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 

Appear in writinj^, or in judging ill ; ' 

But of the two> fesa dang'rous is th' ofience 

To tire our patience, than mislead our ^ense. P^* 

■ > Him the Almighty Power 

lEIurl'd headlong flaming irom th' ethereal sky. 

With hideous ruin and combustion down 

To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 

Ia adamantine chains and penal fire. 

Who durst de% th' Omnipotent to arms. MiUon. 

In these examples, we see the particle the m^y 
either form a distinct syllable or not. In the 



4 



170 IthETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

I 

third line from Pope, the first the forms a distinct 
syllable, but the second is sunk into the suc- 
ceeding noun. The same may be observed of 
this particle in the passages from Milton. The 
same observations, in every respect, hold good 
m the pronunciation of the preposition to^ which 
ought always to be sounded long, like the ad- 
jective txvp^ however it may be printed, whether 
as we see it in Pope's Essay on Man, 

Say what the use were finer optics giv'n, 

T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n : 

Or in Milton, either abbreviated as in 



durst oppose 



A third part of the Gods in synod met 

Their Deities t' assert : who, while they feel 

Vigour divine within them, can allow 

Omnipotence to none. Par. Lost. b.vi. V.155» 

Or at length, as in the following passage. 

Yet still they knew, and ought to have still rememberM 
The high injunction not to taste that fruit 
Whoever tempted — — 

Having premised these observations on words, 
we shall next proceed to sentences;. as words ar- 
ranged into sentences may be properly called 
the subject niatter of the Art of Reading. 

Of t/te Pause or Ccesura of Verse. 

• RtjLE IV. Almost every verse admits of a 
pause in or near the middle of the line, which 
is called the Caesura ; this must be carefully ob- 
served in reading verse, or much of the distinct- 
ness, and almost all the harmony, will be lost, 

EXAMPLE. ' 

Nature to all things ftx'd the limits fit. 

And wisely curJj'd proud ^nan's pretending wkj 



I 



EHETORICAL CaiAMMAR* 171 

As on the Uiid while .here the ocean gains. 

In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains ; 

Thus in tne soul, while memory prevails. 

The, solid pow*r of understanding fails; 

Where beams of warm imagination play, 

Tfie memory^s soft figures melt away. Pope^ 

These lines have seldom any points inserted in 
the middle, even by the most scrupulous punc- 
tuists ; *and yet nothing can be more palpable 
to the ear than that a pause in the first at things, 
in the second at curVdy in the third at landy in 
the fourth zX parts y in the fifth at souly is abso- 
lutely necessary to the harmony of those lines ; 
and that the sixth, by admitting no pause but at 
understanding y and the seventh, none but at ima- 
giiiatioHy border very nearly upon prose. Tlie 
reason vfhy these, lines will not admit of a pause 
any where but at these words will be evident 
to those who have perused the former part of 
this work on the division of a sentence ; and if 
the reader would see one of the mo$t curious 
pieces of analysis on this subject in* any lan- 
guage, let him peruse the chapter on Versifica- 
tion, in Lord Kaims' Elements of Criticism ; 
where he will see the subject of pausing, as -it 
relates to verse, discussed in the deepest, clear- 
est, and most satisfactory manner. It will be 
only necessary to observe in this place, that 
though the most harmonious place for the capi- 
tal pause is after the fourth syllable, it may, for 
the sake of expressing the* sense strongly and 
suitably^ and. even sometimes for the sake of va- 
riety, be placed at several other intervals. 

EXAMPLES. 

'Ti^ h^d to say-— if greater want of skill. 



ns aHETORICAL GRAMMAR^ 

So when 90 angel— i^y diviae ammand. 
With rising tenipe8tii-*Ȥfaakes a guilty bmd. 

Then from his closing ejies-^thy fonn shall part. 
And the last pang«-shaU tear thee from his heart, 

Inspired repuls'd battalions— to engage. 

And taught the doubtful battle— ^where to rage. 

Know then thyself— presume not God to scan; . 
The proper study of manlind— is man« 



Cf the Cadence of Verse. 

Rule V. Ik order to form a cadfeiice in a 
period in rhjrming verse, we must adopt the 
foiling inflexion with considerable force m the 
caesura of the last line but one, 

EXAMPLE. 

Oiie science only will one genius fit. 
So vast is art, so narrow human wit ; 
Not only bounded to peculiar arts. 
But oft in those confined to single parts ; 
Like kings, we lose the conquests, gain'd beibre 
By vain ambition, still to make them more ; 
Each might his sev'ral province— well command. 
Would all but stoop to what diey understand* Pcp^. 

In repeating these lines, we shall find it neces* 
sary to form the cadence^ by giving the falling 
inflexion with a little more force than common 
to the word proviiice. llie same may be ob 
served ®f the word prospect in the la§t lin« Qf 
the following passage : 

So pleas'd at first the towering Alps we try. 
Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; 
Th' eternal snows appear already past. 
And the first clouds and mountams seem the last; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. lis 

But those aftain'dy we tremble to survey 
The glowing labours of the lengthen'd way ; 
Th' increasing prospect— >tlres our wand'ringeyes. 
Hills peep o'er hiUs^ aiid Alps on Alps arise. • 

How to pronmmce a Simile in Poetry. 

Rule VL A simile in poetry ought always 
\o be read in a lower tcme of voice than that 
part of the pii^sage whi/ch precedes it. 

EXAMt>^Lfi. 

TVas tfien great Marlborough's mighty soul was provM^ 
That in the shock of chaining hosts unmov^^ 
Amidst cpn&sipi|» hptrpu wad despair, : 

ExaminMali the dreadful scenes of war; ^^ 

In peaceful thought the field of death surveyM* 
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid; - 
Inspired repulsed battalions to engage. 
And taught the dottbtful battle where to rag^. 
So when an ang(Bl* by dtyiQe command, 
iyith risinff tempest shakes a guilty I^nd, : , 
(Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past) 
Cairn and serene be drives the furious blast ; 
And pleasM th' Almighty's orders to perform. 
Rides on the whirlwip4f Iin4 directs die itorjo* 

This rule is one of the greatest embellish- 
ments of poetic pronunciation, and is to be ob- 
6erved oo less in blank verse than in rhyme. 
Milton's beautiful Jdescr^ioa of the sports of 
&e falleii angels affoids us a good opportunity 
of exemplifying it. 

Farteurb their fiery steeds, or shan die ^oal 
With rapid wheels, or fepnted brigades fonn. 
As when, to warn proud cities, war ^3{>€ara 
Wac'd in the troubrd sky, and armies rush 
To battle in the clouds, oefbre each van 
Pckk forth the a^ry knight^ and couch their spears^ 
Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms 
FroAi either end of iieav^n the welkin bttms. - - 
Otiiers with vast Typhoean rage more fell 



174 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Rend up both rocks affidiitlls> and ride the a^r 

In whirlwind ; hell scarceholds the wild uproan 

A» when Alcides, from CEchalia crown'd 

With conquest, felt th' invenom'd robe ; and tore, ^ 

Throueh pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines. 

And Lichas from tlie top of CEta threw 

Into th' Euboic sea. / Par. Xo«^ b« ii. v. 53 1 . 

In reading this passage, the voice inust drop 
into a monotone at the commencement of each 
simile: as it proceeds, the voice gradually slides 
out of the monotone, to avoid too great a same- 
ness ; but the monotone itself, being so essen- 
tially different from the preceding style of pro- 
nunciation, becomes one of the greatest sources 
of variety. 

Rule V. Where there is no pause in the 
sense at the end of a verse, the last word must 
have exactly the same inflexion it virould have 
in prose. Of that visionary pause at the end of 
every line in verse, called by some writers th€ 
pause of suspension,. See a full confutation in 
Element of Elpcution, p* 288. 

Over their heads a crystal firmament. 

Whereon a saphire throne, inlaid with pure • 

Amber, and colours of the flowery arch. . MUtm. ' 

In this example the word pure must have the 
falling inflexion^ whether we make any pause 
at it or not, "as this^is the inflexion the word 
wouldhave if the sentence were pronounced pro«- 
saically. For the same, reason the words re- 
tir'd and went^ in the following example, must 
be pronounced with tiie rising inflexion. 

At his commaitd th' uprooted hills r^tir'd 
Each to his place ; they heard h^ voic^, ^nd wwt< 
Obsequious; heav'n his wonted face r^new'd, :. i 
And witlvfiesh flow'ret& hills and valleys smilW * 



_ _ . _ - - - » 



RHETCWICAL GRAMMAR; lis 

^ - Rule VL ' Sublime, grand, and magnifi- 
cent description in poetry requires a lower tone 
.o£ voice, and* a sameness nearly approaching to 
a monotone. 

This rule will surprise many, who have al- 
ways been taught to look upon a monotone, or 
.sameness of voice, as a deformity in reading. A 
deformity it certainly is, when it arises either 
from a want of power to alter the voice, or 51 
want of judgment to introduce it properly; but 
I presume it may be. with confidence affirmed, 
that when it is introduced with propriety, it is 
one of the greatest embellishments of poetic 
pronunciation. 

• EXAMPLE. ' 

And if each system in gradation roll. 
Alike. essential to th' amazing whole. 
The least confusion but in one, not all ' 
Tnat system only, but the whole must fall. 
Let eartft unbalanc'd from her orbit fly. 
Planets and suns run lawless: through the sky; 
Let ruling angels from tlieir sphexes be hurl d, 
Being'on being wreck'd, and world on world, 
HeavVs whole foundations to their centre nod. 
And Nature tremble to the throne of God : 
All this dread order break ! — for whom ? for tliee ? 
Vile worm !— oh madness ! prid6 ! impiety ! Pope» 

The series of grand images which commences 
at the fifth line fills the mind with surprise 
approaching to astonishment. A3 this passion 
has a tendency to fix the body, and deprive it of 
motion, so it is best expressed in speaking by b- 
deep and almost uniform tone of voice; the 
tone indeed may have a small slide upwards at 
f/ty, zvorldy and God, but the words /j/, hurl'd, 
and nod, require exactly the same monotonoiis 
sound with which the rest of the line must be 
pronounced. 



Itt RRETOIUCAL GltAMMAt. 

What has been just observed in the last Les^ 
son leads us to another rule in reading verse, 
which> though subject to exceptions, is su^^ 
ciently general to be of considerable Use. 

Rule VII, When the first line of a couplet 
does not form perfect sense, it is necessary to 
suspend the voice at the end of the line with the 
rising slide. 

EXAWPLE* 
Far as creation^s ample raoge ext€nds> 
The scale of seasusd^ meatal powers ascends* 
Mark how it xaouats to roan's imperial r4ce^ 
From the green myriads in the peoplM graiu. fof^^ 

This rule holds good even where the first line 
forms perfect sense by itself^ and is followed by 
another forming perfect sense likiewise, provid- 
ed the first line does not end with an emphatic 
word which requires the falling slide. 

EXAMPLE. 
Seltlove, the spring of p|iotion, acts Ae s^ul | 
Reason's comparing balance rules the whole* 
Ail Nature is but art unknown to th^. 
All chance, direction which thou canst not see : 
•All discord, harmony not understood. 
All partial evil, universal good t 
^ And spite of pride, in erring reascm'ssj:^^ 

One troth i& dear, IVhatccer is, u rigki. Pcpe^ 

In all these couplets, except the last, th^ firs* 
line forms perfect sense by itself, but the variety 
and harmony of the verse requires they should 
be all equally read v^Hith the rising slide on the 
hst word. But if the first line ends with an em- 
phatical word requiring the falling slide, this 
alide must be given to it, but in a higher tone 
of voice than tne same slide in the last line of 
the couplet "^ 



kHETOBICAL GRAMMAR; 177 

exampi;e. 

' s . Vioti is a monster of so frightful mietii . 
As to be hated needs but to be seen; 
Yet seen too oft, familiar tvith her face, \ 
We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 
But where the extretne of vice was ne'er agreed ; 
Ask Where's the North, at York 'tis on the Tweed ; 
No creature ownii it iii the first degree. 
But thinks his neighbour further gone than he. 
E'en those who dwell beneath its very zone^^ 
Or never feel the rage, or never own : . 
Whdt happier natives shrink at with affright 
The hard inhabitant contends is right. Fo'pc, 

in the first line of the last couplet but one, the 
Word zone is emphatical, and requires the fall- 
ing slide; but this slide must not be in so low a 
tone las it is in the last word of the next line. ' 

But when the fir^t line of a couplet dqes not 
form sensc^ and the second line, either from its 
not forming sense, or from its being a question, 
requires the rising slide ; in this case, the first 
line must end with such a pause as the sense re- 
quires^ but without any alteration in the tone of 
the voice; . . ^ 

EXAMPLE; 

I 

When the prdud steed shall know why man restram^ 
His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains ; 
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, 
is now a victim, and now Egypt's god : 
Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend 
His actions', passions', being^Sy use and end : 
Why doing, 'suffering, check'd, impell'd,— and wliy 
This hour a slavef, the next a deity. 

In this passage; the words restrain and chd 
ought to have no inflexion, and plains and god 
the rising. 

In the same manner, if a question rcfquires 
the second line of the couplet to adopt the rising 

N 



MB RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 



slide, the first ou^ht to have a pause at the end 
but the voice, without any alteration^ ought to 
cany on the same tone to the second line, and 
to continue this tone almost to the end. 

EXAMPLE. 

Shall burning MlnsL, if a sage requires. 

Forget to thunder, and recall her fires ? 

On air or sea new motions be imprest, 

O blameless Bethel, to relieve thy breast ? 

When the loose mountain trembles from on high. 

Shall gravitation cease, w hile you go by r 

Or some old temple nodding to its fall. 

For Chartres' head reserve the hanging vrall? 

In this passage the three first couplets are ques- 
tions requiring the rising slide at the end, and 
must therefore have the first liries end with a 
sameness of voice, which sameness must begin 
each succeeding line, and continue till it ap- 
proaches the end> which adopts the rising in- 
flexion. The last couplet is of exactly the same 
form as the rest ; but, as it ends a paragraph, it 
must, both for the sake of variety and harmony, 
have its first line end with the rising, and its last 
with the falling slide. 

The same principles of harmony and variety 
induce us to read a triplet with a sameness of 
voice, or a monotone, on the end of the first line, 
the rising slide on the end of the second^ and 
the falling on the last. 

Waller was smooth, but Dryden taught to join J 
The varying verse, the full resounding line, > 

. The long majestic march, and energy divine, j , 

This rule, however, from the various sense of 
the triplet, is liable to many exceptions. But, 
with very few exceptions, it may be laid down 
S^ a rule that a quatrain, or stanza of four lines 



, RttfiTORlCAL GilAMMAk. i79 

of alternate verse, may be read with the mo^ 
notone ending the first line^ the rising slide 
ending the second and thirds and the falling 
the last. I 

EXAMPLE. I 
Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; , ! 

Full m^iny a flower is born to blush unseen^ ' 

And waste its sweetness on the desert air. ' 

Grafs Elegy, \ 

On Blank Verse. 

The structure and punctuation of blank verse 
is a vast source of error and perplexity to young 
readers. Writers of blank verse affect to end 
the line without any pause, or with as small a 
pause as possible ; and readers are too apt, where 
they see no pause at the end of the line, to run 
the lines together, without attending to such 
pauses as they would make in prose, for fear we 
should suppose they do not know how to read 
blank verse : this makes them frequently pro-^ 
nounce the words at the end of one hne and the 
beginning of the next much more swiftly than 
any other part of the verse, to the utter ruin of 
the harmony : for all verse requires a stated re- 
gular march of the syllables, and it is in this 
march the grandeur and beauty of the verse 
consists. In reading blank veirse, therefore, care 
must be taken to steer between the one extreme 
of ending every line with a pau$e; and the other, 
of running one line into another more rapidly 
than if they were prose. 

With respect to the pause of suspension at the 
end of every line in blank verse, which some 
writers insist upon as necessary to the harmony, 
see Elements of Elocution, p* 288, where the 
subject is fully discussed. 

N 2 



[ 180 J 



AN 

EXPLANATION 



OF THE 



FIGURES OF RHETORIC, 

. WITH DIRECTIONS 
l^OR THE PROPER MANNER OF PRONOUNCING THEM- 



JtllTHERTO sentences have been considered 
only with regard to their external fornix and 
their plain and oBvious meaning. We have 
seen them in all their variety of simple and com- 
pound ; have observed them in every diversity 
of structure ; and have examined at large, and 
with some degree of attention, the connexion 
that subsists between their several parts, so as 
to determine the precise meaning and import of 
the whole. Thus far, however, sentences may 
be considered* as pertaining to grammar only*. 

* Les gsammariens et rh6teurs ayant fait des observations 
sur les diiferentes manidres de parler, ils ont faites des classes 
particuliers de ces diff«^rentes mani^te, afin de mettre plus d'or- 
iire et d'arrangement dans leurs reflexions. Les iriani^res de 
parler dajis Ijg^quelles ils n'ont reroarqu^ d'autre propriet6 que 
celle de faire connoitre jcq qu'on pense, sont appellees simple- 
ment phrases, edcpr€ssio7is, pcriodes ; mais celles qui expriment 
non seulement des pens6es mais encore des pens^es ^oncees 
d^une mani^e particuli^re qui lui donne un caract^re propre, 
celles-la dis^je sont SLppeW^es figures, parce qu'elles paroissent, 
pour aihsi dire, sous une forme particuJiere, et avec ce carac- 
t^re propre, qui les distingue les unes des autres et de tout ce 
qui n est que phrase ou expression. DuMctrsaisdes Tropes p. 9. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 181 

There is another view in which we may contem- 
plate them, which may be called rhetorical; 
and that is, not only when the sentence has a 
simple and definite meaning, but when this 
tneaning is cast into a peculiar form, and there- 
fore called a figure : and it is to this latter mean- 
ing, that is, to the figurative sense of words, that 
language owes its peculiar force and beauty. 

These figures may be divided into two kinds ; 
namely, into such as are common to every species 
of composition, and into such as belong more 
particularly to oratory. The former of these, 
«uch as Metaphors, Allegories, &c. have no re- 
ference to delivery, and may be considered as 
perfect, whether they are spoken or not : the 
latter, such as Irony, Aposiopesis, Climax, &c. 
suppose a pronunciation suitable to each, and 
without which they have not half their beauty: 
the first of thcvse figures we may, for the sake of 
distinction, call rhetorical, and the last oratori- 
cal. But, as many of the figures of each of these 
kinds are nearly allied to both, it may not be 
improper to give a summary account of both, 
that each of them may be better understood. 

I shall not enter into a minute discussion of 
the difference between a trope and a figure, but 
shall content myself with following the accurate 
and philosophical Du Marsais on this subject, 
who considers the former as a species of the lat- 
ter, and defines a figure to be a manner of^eak^ 
ing distinguished by a pai^ticidar modification^ 
tvhich reduces it to a certain class; and tvhich ren- 
ders it more lively ^ more noble^ and more agree-- 
ablCy than a manner of speaking which expresses . 
the same thought zvithout this particular 7nQd(fica^ 
tion of it, 

N 3 



L 



ft 



182 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

This he illustrates by a passage from Bruyere, 
where he says, <* There are certain subjects, in 
*^ which mediocrity is intolerable ; poetry, music, 
*^ painting, and public speaking/' * Here,' says 
Du Marsais, * there is no figure, that is to say, the 
^ whole phrase merely expresses the thought of 

* Bruyere, without any turn which particularly 

* characterises it;' but when he adds, " What 
^^ punishment is it to hear a frigid composition 

pompously delivered, or poor verses pro- 
nounced with emphasis !" • This,' says our 
author, ^ is the same thought, but there is added 
^ to it the expression . of surprise and admira- 

* tion ; and this expression makes it a figure.* 
Or, in other words, a trope or figure is where a 
word or sentence is to be understood in a sense 
different from its most common and ordinary 
usage J and it is this peculiar sense or form of 
the thought which constitutes the figure of the 
expression. This cannot be better illustrated 
than by the use of the word taste. When we 
say a person has a^fine taste/or tvineSy the word 
is used in its most common and ordinary sense ; 
but when we say he has a firie taste for paint- 
ingy poetry y or musky we use the word figura- 
tively : in the latter use of the word, therefore, 
there is a figure, and in the former nope. , 

Having thus given a general idea of the na-^ 
ture of rhetorical figures, I shall proceed to give 
a particular account of them ; and first of the 
Metaphor. 

Metaphor. 

A METAPHOR, is an expression, where a word 
or phrase departs from its more common and 
ordinary sense to another, which it resembles in 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 1S3 

some respects, and differs from in others : or, in 
fewer words, it may be defined to be a simile, 
or comparison, without the sign of comparison. 
Thus, when we say Demosthenes was the bulwark 
of Athens, the word bulwark is a metaphor; be- 
cause, as a bulwark guards a place from its ene« 
mies, so Demosthenes, by his eloquence, guard- 
ed the Athenian state. But if we say Dernostlienes 
was as a bulwark to AtheiUy then it becomes a 
simile or comparison ; so that a metaphor is a 
stricter or closer comparison, and a comparison 
a looser and less compact metaphor. 

** Metaphors,'* says an ingenious and' judi- 
cious author*, " abound in all writings : from 
scripture they might be produced in vast va* 
riety. Thus our blessed Lord is called a vine, 
^^ a lamby a lion^ &c. Thus men, according to 
" their different dispositions, are styled wolves, 
sheep, dogs, serpents, &c. And indeed meta- 
phors not only abound in the sacred writings, 
but they overspread all language ; and the 
more carefully we examine authors, not only 
poets but philosophers, the more shall we dis- 
cover their free and large use of metaphors, 
** taken from the arts and sciences, the cus- 
** tomfs of mankind, and the unlimited fields of 
" nature." 

Allegory. 

An allegory is a continuation of several meta- 
phors, so connected in sense as to form a kind 
of parable or fable. It differs from a single me- 
taphor, says the above-mentioned author, in the 
same manner as a cluster on the vine does from 

♦ Gibbons's Rhetoric, p. 24. 
N 4 



ti 






1S4 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

a single grape. This we may illustrate by a 
very happy example of his own, where, speak 
ing of the metaphor, he says, " Of all the 
flowers that embellish the regions of elo- 
quence, there is none that rises to such an 
^^ eminence, that bears so rich and beautiful a 
*' blossom, that diffuses such a copious and exr 
^* quisite fragrance, or that so amply rewards 
*^ the care and culture of the poet or the 
" orator*.*' 

Quintilian observes, that the most beautiful 
species of composition is that where there is a 
mixture of the comparison, the allegory, and the 
trope ; an instance of which he gives us in the 
following passage from Cicero : 

'' What estuary, what part of the sea, can you imagine so. 
" much vexed with the tossing and agitations of the waves ? 
" How violent the perturbations and fury of our popular as- 
'' scmblies, for the election of magistrates ! The space of only 
one day or night often throw? all things into confusion, an<} 
sometimes only a small breath of rumour shall quite change 
the opinion oi the whole people.'' QuintiL lib. vii, cap. 6. 

Me tony 7711/. 

A Metonymy is a figure, where one name is 
put for another, for which it may be allowed to 
stand, on account of some relation or coherence 
between them. Thus, a humane prince is called 
a Titus, a cruel one a Nero, and a great con- 
queror an Alexandej\ Cicero, speaking of the 
study of eloquence, says. 

To omit Greece, which always claimed the pre-eminence 
for eloquence; and Athens, the inventress of all sciences, 
where the art of speaking Was invented and perfected; in 
this city of ours, no studies have prevailed more than that of 
eloquence. 

* Gibbons's Rhetoric, p. 27, 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 185 

Where the words Greece and Athens stand to de- 
note the inhabitants of .those places; and it is 
this usage of the city or country for the inhabi* 
tants that forms the metonymy: 

Synecdoche. 

A Synecdoche puts the whole for a part, or a 
part for the whole, as. 

Thy growing virtues justify'd my cares. 

And promised comfort to my silver hairs* Pope's Homer, 

That is, my old age. 

Achilles' wide-destroying wrath, that pour'd 
Ten t/iousand woes on Greece, O Goddess, sing ! 

Hof/ier's Iliad, b. i. v. 1. Gibbons*s Rhet, p. 74. 

Where we may observe, that putting a certain 
number for an uncertain olie, that is, ten thousand 
woes for the great number of woes brought on 
Greece by the wrath of Achilles, forms a species 
of the figure Synecdoche. 

HypSrbole. 

An Hyperbole is a figure that goes beyond the 
bounds of strict truth, and represents things as 
greater or snialler, better or worse, than they 
f^ally are. 

Milton's strong piniqn now not heav'n can bound, 
' I^ow serpent-like in prose he sweeps the ground. Pope^ 

yirgil, describing the swiftness of Camilla, says: 



Camilla 



Outstripped tlie winds in speed upon the plain. 
Flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain ; 
She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along, 
Jier flying foot unbath'din billows hung. 

Dryden, jEn. vii. 



1S« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Catachrhis. 

The Catachresisy or abuse, borrows the name of 
one thing to express another, which either has 
no proper name of its own, or, if it has, the bor* 
rowed name is more surprising and agreeable, 
on account of its novelty and boldness: thus the 
word drinky in the following passage, is so bold 
a figure as to be properly styled a Catachresis : 

Phemius ! let acts of gods and heroes old. 
What ancient bards in hall and bowV have told 
Attemper'd to the lyre, your voice employ. 
Such the pleas'd ear will drink with silent joy. 

Fope*s Homer's 0<fys$ey. 

The figures which follow, and which, for the 
sake of distinction, may be styled ot-atorical 
figures, are such ^s derive much of their beauty ' 
from a proper delivery : this delivery we shall 
endeavour to describe ; and if the description 
conveys but a faint idea of the proper manner of 
pronouncing them, it must be remembered that 
a faint idea of this pronunciation is better than 
none at all. 

Trony.^ 

Irony is a figure, in which one extreme is sig- 
nified by its opposite extreme ; or where we 
speak of one thing and design another, in order 
to give the greater force and poignancy to our 
meanings Thus Cicero sometimes applies it in 
the way of jest and banter, where he says. 

We have much reason to believe the modest man would not 
ask him for his debt, where he pursues hi^ life. 

Fro Quint, c. 1 1 . 

At Other times, by way of insult and derision. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 187 

Thus, when he would represent the forces of 
Catiline as mean and contemptible, he says, 

O terrible war ! in which this band of profligates are to 
inarch under Catiline. Draw out all your garrisons against 
this formidable body ! 

And at other times, in order to give the greater 
force to his argument, he seems, as it were, by 
this figure to recall and correct what he had said 
before : as in his oration for Milo : 

But it is foolish in us to compare Drusus Africanas^ and oai** 
selves, with Clodius ; all our other calamities were tolerable, 
but no one can patiently bear the death of Clodius, 

III pronouncing the first of these passages, we 
should assume an over-acted approbation, and 
such a tone of voice as seems to exclude all 
doubt of the integrity of the person we sneer at: 
this tone is low and drawling, and must be 
accompanied by a lifting-up of the hands, as 
if it were a crime to think otherwise than we 
speak. 

In the second passage we must assume a fear, 
as if occasioned by the most terrible danger. 
The voice must be in a high tremulous tone, 
!and the hands lifted up, with the palms and 
fingers open, as if to defend us from approach- 
ing ruin. ■ . 

In the third passage we must assume a disap- 
probation, approaching to contempt: the voice 
must be in a low tone, and the right-hand with 
the palm and fingers open, waved from the left 
to the right, as if to set aside something too in- 
significant to be attended to; but the last mem- 
ber must have the tone of approbation, as if the 
object of it were something very noble and. sa- 
cred. For this sentence, see pp. 79 and 81, and 
the Plate annexed. 



1S8 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



Satan beheld their plight. 



And to his mates thus in derision calPd. 

O friends, why come not on these victors proud ? 

Erewhile they fierce were coming, and when we 

To entertain them fair witli open front 

And breast (what could we more?) propounded terms 

Of composition, straight they chang'd their minds. 

Flew offi and into strange vagaries fell 

As they would dance ; yet for a dance they seem'd 

Somewhat extravagant and wild : perhaps 

For joy of offered peace ; but I suppose, 

Jf our proposals once again were heard, 

Wp sho^ild compel them to a quick result. 

MiUon's Paradise Lost, b. vi. v. 609. 

This passage, as Mr. Addison observes, is no- 
thing but a string of puns, and those very bad 
ones too: but whatever may be its merits in 
other respects, it aflFords an excellent opportunir 
ty of practising the pronunciation of irony. It 
must begin by an affeqted surprise, and proceed 
with a seriousness and seeming sincerity till the 
seventh line, when the word for is to have an 
en:iphasis with the rising inflexion, and to be pro- 
nounced with an air of uncertainty ^whether it 
were a dance or not. A sneer commences at 
perhapSy which must be pronounced with a sly 
arch tone, as if perfectly secure of the conse-» 
quences of another onset, 

Ecphonesls. 

Exclamation and Interrogation have been 
treated at large in the former part of this work; 
but there they have been considered only with 
respect to pause and inflexion of voice : here it 
will be necessary to consider them more rhe- 
torically, and to endeavour to show what tones, 
passions,^ and gesturg^, they demand. 



J 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. i8d 

Ecphonesisy or Exclamation, is a figure which 
shows that the mind labours A^ith some strong: 
and vehement passion. It is generally expressed 
by such interjections as O ! Oh! Ah! Alas! and 
the like, which may be called the signs of this 
figure. . 

But first we may observe, that while other 
figures are confined to some particular passion, 
this seems to extend to all, and is the voice of 
nature under any kind of commotion or con- 
cern : this voice, however, is not (as we are told 
in our grammars) always in va hi^h and elevated 
tone: strong passion is. not unfrequently ex- 
pressed by a low tone ; for, though toth loud- 
ness and highness generally accompany any sud- 
den emotion of soul, it is certain that we may 
cry out in a loud and high tone without much 
emotion, provided it is not sudden, without being 
either very high or very loud. The tone of the 
passion, therefore, must direct the tone of the 
voice in this figure. Accordingly we find that 
joy unexpected adopts this figure, and elevates 
the voice to the highest pitch. , 

■ ^ O my soul's joy ! 

If after ev'ry tempest come such calms. 

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! 

Shakspeare^s Othello, 

joy, thou welcome stranger ! twice three years 

1 have-not felt thy vital beam; but now 

It warms my veins, and plays about my heart : 

A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground. 

And 1 could mount Revenge^ act iii. 

Sorrow in the extreme likewise adopts this 
figure, and raises the voice into a highutone : thus 
Lady Coristance, in King Jolin, cries o,ut, . 



190 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

I am not mad— I wouM to heav'n I were ! 
For then 'tis like J should forget mjself : 
Oh if I could, what grief should I forget ! 

But a slight degree of sorrow, or pleasing me- 
lancholy, adopts this figure in a soft middle tone 
of voice : thus the Duke, in Shakspeare's Twelfth 
Night, relieving his melancholy with music, says : 

That strain again! it had a dying fall! 
Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south. 
That breathes upon a bank of violets. 
Stealing and giving odour. 

While the contemptuous reproach and impa^ 
tience of Lady Macbeth uses the exclamation 
in a harsh and lower tone of voice : 



< 1 1, ^ 



O proper stuff! 



This is the very painting of your fears: 
This is the air-drawn dagger, which you said 
Led you to Duncan. 

Thus Cicero, speaking of his banishment, from 
which he had been so honourably recalled, be- . 

fins in a low and mournful tone, but ends in a 
igh and exulting one : 

Oh mournful day to the senate and all rood men ! cala- 
mitous to the senate, affliclive to me and nfy family; but to 
posterity glorious, and worthy of admiration 1 

Fro Sext, cap. 12* 

Again, in his defence of Caelius, endeavouring 
to expose his accusers to the indignation of the 
court, he cries out, in a loud and high tone. 

Oh ! the great and mighty force of truth, which so easily 
supports itself against all the wit, craft, subtlety, and artful 
designs of me^ ! 

At Other times he adopts this figure to express 
disdain or contempt; as, when speakingof Pom- 
pey's bouse, which Mark Anthony had pur« 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. I9i 

chased, he says to him, in a low contemptuous 
tone,— 

Oh consummale inVpudence ! dare you go within those 
walls ? dare you venture over that venerable, threshold^ and 
show your audacious countenance to the tutelar deities which 
reside there? PMHpp. ii. c. 26. 

Thus we see the Exclamation adapts itself to 
the passion which adopts it, and is either in a 
high or low tone of voice, as. the passion re- 
quires; but as it is seldom adopted, but when 
there is a strong emotion of soul, it is generally 
heard in a loud tone, though not always in a 
high one : this distinction of voice is so little 
understood or attended to, that it is no wonder 
we find our grammars echoing from each other 
that this figure always requires ^ high and ele- 
vated tone, 

« 

Erotisis. 

Erotesis, or Interrogation^ is a figure by 
which we express the emotion of our mind, 
and infuse an ardour and energy into our dis- 
course by proposing questions. 

This figure, as it relates to grammar, has been 
already treated of at large, and that slide or in- 
flexion of voice which distinguishes one species 
of it has been fully explained and inculcated : 
for, as the learned professor Ward observes. 
Every interrogation or question is not figura- 
tive. When we inquire about a thing that is 
" doubtful, in order to be informed, this is no 
*' figure, but the natural form of such expres* 
" sions; as if I ask a person, ichere he is going? 
" or loKat he is doing? But it then becomes figii- 
^* rative,^ when the same thing may be expressed 






U 

€C 
€C 
€C 



1 92 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

" in a direct manner: but the putting it by way 
of question gives it a much greater life and 
spirit : as when Cicero siays, Catiline^ how 
long will you abuse our patience ? Do not yoii 
perceive your designs are discovered? He 
might indeed have said. You abuse our pa^ 
tience a long zohile : you must be sensible your 
designs are discovered. But it is easy to 
perceive how much this latter way of expres- 
*^ sion falls short of the force and vehemence of 
'^ the former.'' 

This figure, like the last, is the vehicle of 
every passion and emotion of the mind. But if 
we consider it only as a departiife from the de- 
clarative form, and not accompanied by any pas- 
sion, it wonderfully varies and enlivens the style, 
by holding personal converse as it were with 
the reador or auditor, and urging him to atten- 
tion by the answer it leads him to expect. If 
this figure is formed by the verb only, and with- 
out the interrogative words, it frequently com- 
mences and continues with a monotone, an4 
ends with an inflexion of voice, which not only, 
pleases the ear by the striking variety it pro- 
duces, but rouses the attention by its more im- 
mediate address to the understanding. But 
when to these marking properties we annex 
emotion or passion, this figure becomes th@ 
most -powerful engine in the whole arsenal of 
oratory. Hqk does Cicero press and bear down 
his adversary by the force of interrogations, when,, 
pleading for his client, he thus addresses him- 
self to his ^cuserl 

I will make yow this offer. Plan ci us ; clK)ose any one tribe 
you please, and show, as you ought, by whomit was bribed:' 
but if you cannot, and, in my opinion, will not even attempt 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 103 

to do this, I will show you how he gained it. Is this a fair 
contest? Will yoil engage on this ground? It is an open, 
honourable challenge to you. Why are you silent ? Why 
<Jo you dissemble ? Why do ybu prevaricate ? I repeatedly 
insist upon this point, I urge you to it, press it, require it, nay, 
i demand it of you. 

His interrogations to Tubero, in his Oration 
for Ligarius, have the same irresistible force. 

What, Tuberp, did that naked sword of your's mean in the 
battle of ?harsalia? at whose breast was its point aimed? 
What was then tlie meaning of your arms, your spirit, your 
eyes, your hands, your ardor or soul? What did you desire, 
iVhiat wish for? I press the yoiith too muchj he seems dis- 
turbed. Let me return to myself. I too bore arms on the 
Same side; 

As these questions have the nature of a climax, • 
they ought to be pronounced with increasing 
force to the end ; that is, every succeeding ques- 
tion should be pronounced higher and louder 
than the preceding^ and the demand in the last 
example but one in a lower and louder tone 
than alL 

What uncommon force and spirit do the ques- 
tions of Germanicus to his mutinous soldiers 
give to his reproaches! 

What is there in these days that you haye not attempted ? 
what have J'ou not pirofaned? What name shall I give to 
this assembly? Shall t call you soldiers? you, who have be- 
tieged with your arms, and surrounded with a trench, the son 
of your Emperor ? Shall I call you citizens ? you, who have so 
shamefully trampled upon the authority of the senate? you, 
who have violated the justice due' to enemies, the sanctity of 
Embassy, and the rights of nations ? TcLcitus, Anrials, lib. i. . 

The beauty of this passage depends much 
upon the pronunciatron of the \vord yoil : for as 
it is in apposition to the question beginning with 
a verb, like that it ought to have the rising in- 
flexioa; biit this inflexion ought to be pronoun- 





194 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

ced with a large s€ope of sound, beginning low 
and ending high, the voice dwelling a consider- 
able time on the pronunciation: this will in some 
measure express that surprise and indignation 
with which the questions are charged ; and i{ 
the second ydu is made more emphatical than 
the first, and the third than the second, the force 
and variety of the passage will be considerably^ 
augmented. See ^uestioiiy page 99. 

Jlparith?n€siSf or Ennmeratmiy Gradation, and 

CUmax, 

I HAVE associated these different figures un- 
der the same head, because there is something 
as similar in their pronunciafion as in their struc- 
ture and meaning; and this similitude may serve 
to illustrate and explain what there is alike in 
the pronunciation of each. What is common to 
these figures is an accumulation of particulars^ 
which particulars form a whole ; and the pro- 
nunciation in all of them shouW mark strongly 
that unity and wholeness' in which the force and 
beauty of the figure consists. This pronuncia- 
tion has been explairted at large in the article 
Series, page 1 12, and to this the reader must be 
referred. It seenis only necessary to add here,, 
that,, in proportion to the degree of passion with 
which any of these figures are charged^ the pro- 
nunciation of the latter members should. ri$e in 
force and elevation of voice above the former,, 
that the whole may conclude with a suitable 
force and variety* But even where there is no 
passion in the enumeration of particulars, and 
6ne does not rise above another in importance, 
it seems highly proper to iaerease the Jorce and 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAk. 195 

rfevation of voice on the latter members, in or-» 
der^o avoid too great a sameness^ and to make 
the sentence end with harmony. Thus, when 
Cicero enumerates the great qualities of Pom* 
pey: 

What language can equal the valour of Pompey ? What 
can be said, either worthy of him, new to you, or which, every 
one has not heard ? For those are not, the only virtues of a 
general which are commonly thought so. It is not courage 
alone which forms a great leader, but industry in busi^ 
ness, intrepidity in dangers, vigour in acting, prudence in 
concerting, promptness in executing* All which qualities 
appear with greater lustre in him than in all the other generals 
we ever saw or heard of. Fro Leg, Man. 

In the same manner, when Mr. Addison enu* 
merates the several particulars in Milton's alle* 
gorical character of Death : 

The descriptive part of this allegory is likewise very strongi 
and full of sublime ideas : the figure of Death, the regal crowti 
upon his head, his menace of Satan, his advancing to the com- 
bat, the outcry at his birth, are circumstances too noble to be 
passed over in silence, and extremely suitable to this king of 
terrors. Spectator, N**31p. 

In these enumerations we do not find the par- 
ticulars rising in force as they proceed; but as 
their sameness of form requires a sameness of 
inflexion, in order to show that they are parts of 
a whole, so a small increase of force and eleva- 
tion on each subsequent particular seems neces- 
sary, in order to make the whole more varied 
and agreeable* 

Climax, or Gradation, taken in the strictest 
sense, is an assemblage of particulars forming a 
■whole in such a manner, that the last idea in 
the former member becomes the first in the lat^ 
ter, and so on, step by step, till the climax or 

o2 



196 RHETCfRTCAL GRAMMAR, 

gradation is compkted. There is great strength 
as well as beauty in this figure, when the severaJ 
steps rise naturally out of each other, and are 
closely connected by the sense which they 
jointly convey. This mutual relation of parta 
we may perceive in the following example : 

There is no enjoyment of property without government, 
fto government without a magistrate, no magistrate without 
obedience, and no obedience where every one acts as h« 
pleases. 

This climax is a conduding series, and must 
have its two first members pronounced with the 
falling inflexion ; the third with the rising, and 
the last with the fallinig, in a lower tone of voice 
than any of the rest. 

In the same manner, when Cicero is pleading 
for MilOj he says, — 

Nor did he commit himself only to the people, but also to 
tlie senate ; not to the senate only, but likewise to the public 
forces ; nor to these only, but also to his power with whom 
the senate had intcustecrthe whole commonwealth. 

In this climax the circumstances rise in im- 
portance, and should therefore have an increas-^ 
iilg force and elevation of voice as they proceed! 
The two first members must end with the falling 
inflexion — these only \v\\h the rising, and the last 
with the falling, but hi a more forcible and ele^ 
vated tone than the rest. 

A similar figure from Cicero must be pro- 
nounced somewhat differently. 

What hope is there remainijig of liberty, if whatever is their 
pleasure, it is lawful for them to do ;. ii' what is lawfirl for4:heiSL 
to iby they are able to do ; if what they are able to do, they 
dare do ; if wh.at they dare do, they really execute ; and-S 
"what ttey execute. Is no way offensive to you ?. 






iLHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 19^ 

In pronouncing this figure, the voice must 
adopt the falling inflexion on each particular^ 
it must increase in force and elevation till it 
comes to the last member, and this must have 
still more force than the former members, but 
must be pronounced iii a low concluding tone. 

A perfectly similar pronunciation will suit the 
following climax from Shakspeare : 

What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason ! how 
infinite in facaltiesl in form and moving how express and ad- 
mirable! inaction how Jike an angel! in apprehension how 
like a God ! HamlcL 

Mr. Addison has a beautiful climax of cir- 
cumstances rising one above another, when he 
is describing the treatment of Negroes in the 
TJ^est Indies, who sometimes, upon the death of 
their masters, or upon changing their service, 
hang themselves upon the next tree. 

Who can forbear, says Mr. Addison, admiring (heir fidelity, 
though it expresses itself in so dreadful a manner } What might 
not tnat savage greatness, of soul^ which appears in these poor 
wretches on many occasions, be raised to, were it rightly cul- 
tivated? And what colour of excuse can there be for the con- 
tempt with which we trea^ this part of our species? That we 
should not put them upon the common foot of humanity ; that 
we should only set ao insignificant fine upon the man who 
mitrders them; qay, that we should, as much as in us lies, cut 
them off from the prospects of happiness in another world as 
well as in this, and deny them that which we look upon as the 
proper means for attaining it ? Spectator, N 215. 

The falling inflewn with increasing force upon 
the words humanity^ murders y and another ^ will 
give that force and colouring to this passage 
which it so richly deserves. 

But the series or climax never appears to such 
a.4v^nt2,ge in pronunciation as when it is highlj 

03 



19S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

impassioned. Of this kind are the two follow- 
ing examples from Demosthenes : 

But since he has insisted so much upon the event, I wilt 
hazard a bold assertion. But I beseech you. Athenians, let it 
pot be deemed extravagant,— --let it be weighed with candour. 
I say, then> that, had we ^11 known what misfortune was to 
Attend our efforts, had we all foreseen the final Issue ; had you 
foretold it, iEschines ; had you bellowed out your terrible de<i 
nunciations (you, whose voice was never heard), yet even in 
such a case niust this city have pursued the very same conduct^ 
if she had retained a thought of glory, of her ancestors, or of 
future times. LeUmd^s Demosthenes, 

In my aflfection to my country, you find me ever firm and 
invariable. Not the solemn demand of my person, not the 
'vengeance of the Amphyctionic council, which they denoun« 
ced against me, not the terror of their thr^atenings, not the flat* 
tcry of their premises, no, nor the fury of those accursed 
wretches, whom they roused like wild beasts against me^^ 
could ever tear this afiection from my breast, Ihid* 



, Epandphora^ 

Epanapho-ra, or Repetition^ is a figure which 
gracefully and emphatically repeats either the 
same wordsj, or the same sense in different 
words. 

This figure is nearly allied to the Aparithmesis 
find Climax, and requires- nearly the same pro- 
nunciation; that is, the repeated words must be 
pronounced with a sameness of inflexion, but 
with an increasing force and elevation of voice 
upon each, This expresses that force, unifor- 
mity, and diversity, which constitute the beauty 
of this figure. 

There is scarcely a more beautiful instance of 
this figure than in Cicero's Second QratiQU 
;i^ainst Anthqny, 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 19» 

. As trees and plants necessarily arise from seeds, so are you; 
A^ntJiony, Ih^ seed of this most calamitous w^ar. You mourn, 
O Romans ! that three ofyour armies have been slaughtered — 
they were slaughtered by A^nthony : you lament the loss of 
your most illastrious citizcns-rthey were torn from you bj 
A^nthony :' the- authority of this order is deeply wounded — it 
is wounded by A^nthony : in short, all the calamities we have 
ever since beheld (and what calamities have we not beheld ?) 
if we reason rightly, have been entirely owing to Anthony, 
As Helen was of Troy, so the bane, the misery, the destruc- 
tion of this state-i-is A^nthony. 

The former part of this passage fonns a kind 
of dialogue, where both the question and an- 
swer require the same inflexion, but in different 
pitches of voice. ITius, You mowniy O Romans! 
that three of your armies have been slaughtered, 
must be pronounced in an open middle tone of 
voice, without much force ; but, thei/ zvere 
slaughtered by Anthony y in a lower, louder, and 
more energetic tone; the two succeeding por- 
tions ouffht to be pronounced in the same man- 
ner, with an increasing force and a higher tone 
on the word Anthony: the two last members 
are of a different structure from the former, and 
must be pronounced some what.differentiy ; that 
is, Anthony must be pronounced in a lower tone 
than in the formal members, but with increasing 
force to the last. In pronouncing this passage 
in this manner, it has the effect of a climax ; 
every part has a relation to every part ; and all 
the parts belong to each other, and form a strik- 
ing and harmonious whole- 

Sometimes, however, in this figure, especially 
in verse, the parts do not so necessarily belong 
to each other as to form a whole ; and when 
this is the case, the pronunciation ought to be 
;as various and as musical as possible, that the 

o 4 



jOO RHETORICAL' GRAMMAR. 

repetition of the same words may npt too much 
cloy the e^r and injure the melody of the verse.. 
Thus, in the lamentation of Orpheus for hi^ 
beloved Eurydice, in Virgil's Georgics, b. iv. 
V- 465. 

Te dulch coftjux ; te solo in littqre secum, 
Te veniente die, te decedente, canebat. 

Th€e, his lov'd wife, along the lonely shores; 
Th^e, his lov'd wife, his mournful song deplores ; 
thfe; when the rising morning gives the light, 
Th6e, when tlie world was overspread with night. 
' - ' • Gibbon's lilietoric, p. 21Q. 

This beautiful repetition requiring a tender 
plaintive tone, does not admit of much varie- 
ty, nor does it stand in need of it. Every thee 
ought to have the rising inflexion, and a pause 
iafter it. The first, his hv'd zoife, may have a pa- 
thetic monotone ; and the second may have the 
falling inflexion on lov'dy and the rising on wifcy 
which will form a variety and add to the pa- 
thos. Some variety and pathos may also arise 
from pronouncing the second and fourth fhecy 
with the voice sliding higher and a pause longer 
than at the first and third. 

Thus the beautiful repetition of the word 
faltn in Dryd^n's Ode requires such a variety 
only as is consistent with the harmony. Every 
jfall'n ought to have a long pause after it, with 
such ah inflexion as the versQ requires ; and the 
lone of voice, with respect to its height, ought 
to be more elevated on the last than on any of 
^he former. " 

He chose a mournful muse. 
Soft pity to infuse ; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. aoi 

• He sung Darius, great and good^ 

By too severe a fate, 

Fiivn, mvn, m% m% 

Fill'n from his high estj^te. 
And weltering in his blood. 

Lord Kaims, in his Elements of Criticism, 
tells us, that the line falVn^ fair?!, falCn, falVn^ 
i»epresents a gradual sinking of the mind, and 
therefore is pronounced with a falling voice by 
every one of taste without instruction. It is not 
^isy to understand what his lordship means by 
the falling voice, with which he says this line is, 
to be spoken. If he means that the voice i& tor 
fall gradually lower upon every succeeding 
word, we need but try this pronunciatign, ira-» 
mediately to discover the impropriety of it ; but 
l>y the falling tone it is probable was meant a 
tone of pity, which increases as we repeat the 
words, but which bjr no means requires that the 
voice should drop into a lower key upon every 
succeeding word : this wpuld entirely overturn 
the melody of the stanza, for the sake of some- 
thing like ji childish echo to the sense. The 
truth is, in pronouncing this repetition properly, 
we must assume a low plaintive tone, pronounce 
the firstyiz/rw with the rising inflexion approach- 
ing to a monotone, the second nearly in a mono- 
tone with the falling inflexion, the third with 
Jhe falling inflexion, and the fourth with the 
rising, withput any monotone at all. The fifth 
Jaltn, which begins the sixth line, must have 
the rising inflexion sliding very high, that the 
voice may fall gradually upon the succeeding 
words, and form a cadence. 

There is ^ similar repetition in the first stanza 
gf this ode, which recjuires a variety of emphasis. 



V 



Mf», RHETOKICAL GRAMMAR, 

in the pronunciation," very important to the sense 
and harmony of the whole. 

Happy, happy, happy piir ! 

None but the brave. 

None but the brave. 

None bit the brave deserves the fair. 

. The first line must be pronounced with the 
same inflexions as the fifth line of the last ex* 
ample, but in a quite opposite tone of passion; 
that, in a low mournful tone ; this in a high, gay, 
and lively one. The second line must have the 
felling inflexion with emphatic force on the word 
brave : the third line must have a stronger em- 
phasis, with the falling inflexion on 7i07ie; and 
the last line a still more forcible emphasis, with 
the same inflexion on but : and this diversity will 
be found absolutely necessary to prevent a too 
great sameness in the pronunciation* 



Prolepsis. 

Prolepsis, or Anticipation, is a figure, by 
which the speaker suggests an objection to 
what he is advancing, and returns an answer to 
it. This figure affords an orator a favourable 
opportunity of altering his voice and manner, 
and by this mans of throwing a greater va- 
riety into his pronunciation. The nature of the 
figure dictates the manner of delivering it. When 
we propose an objection against ourselves, can- 
dour requires a certain fairness and openness of 
manner, which may show we do justice to the 
opinion of our adversary, and want to conceal 
nothing from our judges. This frankness of man- 
ner is best expressed by a clear open tone of 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR.- flw. 

voice, somewhat higher and louder than the ge* 
neral tone of the discourse, nearly as if we were^ 
calling out to a person at a distance; after 
which the answer must begin in a low firm 
tone, that the objection and answer may be the 
more clearly distinguished, and that what we 
oppose to the objection may have more the ap-* 
pearance of cool reason and argument. An ex* 
cellent example of this figure is in Cicero's Om* 
tion for Arcbias. . . 

How many examples of the bravest men have the Greek 
and Latin writers left us,-«not only to contemplate but to iiiai* 
tate! These illustrious models I have always set before me 
in the government of the state, and have formed my conduct 
by ct>ntemplating their virtues. 

But it will be asked, were those great men whb are cele*^ 
brated in history distinguished for that kind of learning which 
you so highly extol ? it would be difficult, I grant, to prov^ 
this of them all; but what I shall answer is nevertheless cer- 
tain. I own, then, that there hiave been many men of excel* 
lent dispositions, and distinguished virtue, who, without learn* 
ing,^ and by the almost divine force of nature herself, have at* 
tained to great wisdom and worth ; nay> farther, I will allow 
(hat nature without learning is of greater efficacy towards the 
attainment of glory and virtue than learning without nature; 
but then I affirm, that when to an excellent natural disposition 
are added the embellishments of learning, there always re- 
sults from this union something astonishingly great and 
ijxtraordinary. 

Before the prolepsis in this passage^ as ge* 
nerally in every otherwhere it occurs, the voice 
falls into a low tone, as having concluded sonae 
branch of the discourse : this gives it a better 
opportunity of striking into the higher tone pro* 
per to the objection; and when this is pronoun*- 
ced, the voice falls into a lower tone, as it begins 
the answer, and rises again gradually wiA tbt 
importance of the subject. . 



«♦ RHETOEICAL GRAMMAR. 

, W^ have a beautiful instance of this figure in ' 
Cato; i c 

Jkii, grant that others'cair^ with equal glory. 
Look down on pieafsures and the bait of sense. 
Where shall we find the man that bears affliction. 
Great and majestic in his ills, like Cato ? 

• The two first lines of this passage require a 
plain, high, open tone of voice ; and the two last 
a lower tone^ accompanied with a slight expres- 
;sion of reproach for supposing any one could b^ 
lequal to Gato. 

JPgpe affords us another instance of this figure ; 

I . You think this cruel. Take it for a rule,— 
No creature smarts so little jis a fool. 

' The words *^ You think this cruel" must b» 
|)rQnounce4 in a high, loud tone of voice, and the 
rest in a lower and softer tone. 

We have a striking instance of this figure in 
Pope, where, speaking of the daring flights of 
the ancients, he says, 

I know there arp to whose presumptuous thoughts 
Tho^ie freer beauties even in them seem faults : 
Some llgures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, 
Consider'd singly or beheld too near. 
Which but proportioned to their light or place, 
Pue distance reconciles to form and grace. 

Essay on Criticism, v. 16.9, 

The objection and answer in this passage are 
so Httle distinguished by the author, that unless 
we, distinguish them by a different tone of voice^ 
an auditor would pot well conceive where the 
objection ends aqd the answer begins. In readr 
ing' tWs passage, therefore, we must pronounce 
the tiiyo first lines in a high, open, declarative 
.tone of voice, and commence tpe third in a to^ 



RHE*f OIIICAL GRAMMAR- * 20* 

Coticessive tone, approaching to a monowhe; 
this monotone mAst continue till near the end 
of the fifth line, when the voice is to adopt the 
rising inflexion'in a somewhat higher toneatthe 
end; and to commence the sixth line in as tilj 
higher tone, pause with the rising inflexion at 
distance J arid finish the line with the voice going 
gradually lower to the end. 

. - ^ r 

Sj/nchoresis"^ ^ 

SyncSoresis, or Concession, is a figufe b/ 
which we grant or yield up something, in order' 
to gain a point, which we could not so well se- 
cure without it. 

Thts figure, with respect to its pronunciation^ 
seems the reverse of the former. Fcrt* in that, arf 
we must commence in an open elevated tone, 
and drop into a low and firm one, so in this, w& 
must pronounce the concessive part of the 
figure m a low, light tone, as if what we allow-* 
ed our adversary was of- na great importance, 
and then assume the argument in a strong ele- 
vated tone, as if we had acquired a double forcd 
from the concession we had made. Thus Cicero, 
pleading for Flaccus, in order to invalidate the 
testi!nony of the Greeks, who were witnesses 
against his client, allows them every quality but 
tnat which w^s necessary to make them cre- 
dited. : ^ ' 

This, however^ I say concerning all the Greeks;— I grant 
them learning, the knowledge or many sci^nce^; I do not 
deny that they have wit, fine genius, and eloquence: nay, if 
they la^ claim to many other excelli^cies, I shall n^t contest 
Iheir title : but this I must say, that nation never paid a pBo* 
per regard to .the religious sanctity of public evidence, and 
are total strangers to the obligation, authority, and importance 



»6 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

The first part of this passage, which forms the 
toncession^ should be spoken in a slight easy 
manner, and in a tone rather beloW that of com- 
mon conversation ; but the assertion in the latter 
part should rise into a somewhat higher tone, 
and assume a strength and firmness expressive 
of the force of the argument. It may not be im-' 
proper to remark to those who understand the 
two inflexions of the voice, that the several 
members of the conce^ion sefem to require the 
rising mflexion. 

. Npthing more confounds an adversary than to 
grant him his whole argument, and at the same 
time either to show that it is nothing to the pur- 
pose, or to offer something else that may invali- 
date it, as in the following example : 

I allow that nobody was more nearly related to the deceased 
fhan you ; I grant that he was under some obligations to you ; nay^ 
that you have always been in friendly correspondence with 
^ach other : but what is all this to the last will and testament f 

The concession in this passage must be pro- 
pounced in a moderate, conciliating tone of 
voice; but the question at the end must rise 
into a higher, louder, and more forcible tone. 

There is an uncommon'force in a passage of 
Cato's speech concerning the punishment of the 
traitors in Catiline's conspiracy, which inani-» 
festly arises from the figure upon which we are 
treating. 

Let them, since our manners are so corrupted, be liberaf 
out of the fortunes of our allies ; let them be compassionate to 
Ihe robbers of the pubRc treasury; but let them not throw 
away our blood, and, by sparing a few abandoned vilffiins^ 
make way for the destruction of all good men. 

In 'this example the tone of voice> with respect 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 201 

to height, is nearly the same throughout : but the 
second member assumes a much stronger and 
firmer, though rather lower tone, and necessari- 
ly ends with the rising inflexion* 

Epanorthdsis, 

Epanorthosis, or Correction^ is a figure by 
which we retract or recall what he have spoken^ 
for the sake of substituting something stronger 
or more suitable in its place. ^ * 

The use of this figure lies in the unexpected 
interruption it gives to the current of bur dis- 
course, by turning the stream as it were back 
upon itself, and then returning it upon the audi- 
tor with redoubled force and precision. The 
nature of thi? figure dictates its pronunciation; 
it is somewhat akin to the parenthesis. What 
we correct should be so pronounced as to seem 
the immediate effusion of the moment ; for which 
purpose it does not only require a separatiori 
from the rest of the sentence, by an alteration 
of the voice into a lower tone, but an abrupt 
• discontinuance of the member immediately pre- 
ceding. This, however, is one of the most dif- 
ficult things to execute in the whole art of 
speaking, ^nd must be managed nicely, not to 
have the appearace of affectation: for which 
reason it would be better for the generality of 
readers to consider this figure merely as a paren- 
thesis, and to pronounce it accordingly. Cicero 
makes use of this figure in his oration for Milo: 

Can you be ignorant, among the cpnvorsation of this city, 
what laws — if tbey are to be called laws, and not rather the 
^rebrands of Rome and the plagues of the commonwealth—^ 
Ibift Clodiuft designed to fasten and ii'& upon us t 



^08 RHETORICAL GRAMMA!^. 

The! figure in this passage may be read lik^ sk 
j^arenthesis : the voice should break short a£> 
7aws; at ifit should assume a lower, swifter, and 
more indignant tone ; at commonwealth it should 
^lide upwards into what is called a suspension > 
and at ihis assume the tone with which the 
sentence commencect. The same directions may 
be applied to the interjected member, in the 
following passage of Cicero, in tis defence qf 
Plancius : 

For what greater blow could those judges^^fth^y are to 
be called judges, apd not rather parricides of their country- 
have given to the state, than when they banished that very 
man, who, when praetor, delivered the republic from a neigh- 
bouring, and who, when consul, saved it from a civil war. 

Sometimes this figure comes after the sense is 
completed, and then the preceding member 
closes without the break ; but in this ease we 
may make a pause after the first words of the 
correction, as if to demur and to correct our-' 
selves, in order to rectify an over-sight. This 
may be exemplified in the following passage of 
Cicero '^s Third Philippic . 

Octavias Ca&sar,'thotigh but a ydutby iiay, rather a boy, in-» 
spired with an incredible and divine spirit and courage, a<i. 
that very time when the fury of Anthony was at its height,, 
and when his cruel and pernicious return was so much dread- 
ed, when we neither solicited nor imagined nor desired it, be-' 
cause it seemed utterly impracticable, raised a most powerful 
army of invincible veterans; for which sertice he threw away 
his own estate; but — I have used an improper word — he did 
loot throw it away> he bestowed it for the salvation of tlie com-' 
toonwealth. 

A pause at bui sluSl zcordy in the latter part of the 
sentence, will inai^ the correction rhbrc strong-^ 
}y. It ma:y be' revi}ar]k;pd aisp, that though tliis« 
ngure must.be prQ^ounced in a lower tane.a^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 209 

voice than the former part of the sentencCi it 
ought to have much more force and dignity. 

/ 

Andstrophe. 

Anastrophe, or Irwersioiij is a figure b^ 
which we place last, and perhaps at a great di- 
stance from thd beginning of the sentence, what, 
according to the common order, should have 
been placed first*. 

Miitoji begins his Paradise Lost by a beauti- 
ful example of this figure. 

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world, and all our woe. 
With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
' Restore us, and regain the blissful seat; 

Sing, heavenly Muse ! that on the secret top 
Of Oreb or of Sinai didst inspire 
That shepherd w*ho first taught the chosen seed 
In the beginning how the heavens and earth 
Rose out of Chaos. 

The natural order of the words in this pas- 
sage would have been, Heav'nly Mu^e^ sing 
of mavis first disobedience y &c. — and in this ar- 
rangement of the words no pause is necessary 
between the verb sing and its object, of man^s 
first disobedience J &c. j but when the object of the 
verb, witli all its concomitants, are placed before 
the verb, as in the example, we then find the 
pause preceding th^ verb sing increase in pro- 
portion to its distaiKje from the beginning of its 
object, of man^s first 'disobedience J &c. 

It may be laid down as a good general rule, 
that, whenever the natural order of the words is 
changed, there must be a pause between those 
portions that are disarranged, though no pause 



3ia RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 

would be necessary, if die words were in their 
natural order. Thus in the following passage 
from the same author : 

Th* angelic b!ast , 
Fill'd all the regions : from their blissful bowVs 
Of araaranihine shade> fountain> or «prtng. 
By the waters of life, where'er they sat 
In fellowdip of joy, the sons of light 
Hasted^ resorting to the summons high. 
And took their seats. 

Paradise Lost, h.\u r.7^ 

The natural orde/ of the words would be^ 
TTie sons of light hastedfrom their blissful boufrs^, 
&c. where we may observe that ii very small 
pause, if any, would be admitted at hasted in 
this order of the words, but that, as they stand 
in Milton, a^ considerable pause is required 
at this word, and a still greater ztjoi/, as it is 
here the inversion ends and the natural order 
begins. 

We have in Lowth's Grammar another in- 
stance of the necessity of pausing when the or- 
der of the words is inverted, which is as worthy 
of being q^uoted for the good sense it contains 
as for the opportunity it affords of exemplifying 
the present rule. 

The connective parts of sentences are the most important af 
all, and require the greatest care and attention.; fiu* it.is by 
these chiefiy that the train of thought, the coU|rse of reasonings 
and the whole progress of the mind in contiikued discourse of 
4ill kinds, is laid open"; and on the right use or these the perspi- 
cuity, that is, the first and greatest beauty, of style principally 
depends. Limm9 Grummar, pa 28* 

The adverbial phrases, by these chiefly , and on 
the right use of these^ are classes of words whicl^ 
would require a pause^ even if they came ia 



. imBTOtlCAL GRAMIUUl. mi 

their natural order after the verbs kdd epm and 
depends; but, as they come before these yerbs^ 
and are separated from them by m^y pther 
wprds) a long pau^^ after each is iadispensably 
necessaiy; though in no edition of this grammar 
that I have seen is there any pau$e mareedi 

Apdsirophe, 

AvosTikofn^^ot Occasional Address, is a fi-* 
, gure in which we interrupt the current of our 
discourse, and turn to another person^ or to some 
other object different from that to which our ad^ 
dress was at first directed* This figure is sel- 
dom used; but whcn> ip a violent commotion, 
the speaker tu^ns himself on all sides, and ap^ 
peals to the living and the dead^ to angels and to 
men, to rocks, groves, and rivers, for the juatice 
of bis cause, or calls upon them to sympathize 
.with his joy, grief, or resentment. 

The tone of voici^ to be employed in pi'O- 
nouncing this figure is as various as the passions 
it assumes ; but as these passions are generally 
very vehexnenti, a higher and louder tone of voice 
is generally necessary in the apostrophe tha^in 
that part of the oration that precedes it. When 
we addres$ inanimate things, ^especially if they 
are supposed to be distant, the voice must rise 
in height and loudness, as if the speaker were 
resolved to make them hear him. In this man* 
ner we may presume Cicero pronounced- that 
fine apostrophe in his Oration for Milo, when^ 
speaking of the death of Clodius, he says : 

O ye judges ! it was not by human counsel, nor by any tiling 
less than the immediate care of the immortal gods^ thai this 
«w|]t has taken place* The very divinities themsdves* wfap 

P 2 



212 BHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

befadd Omt monster fall/ seemed to fae moved, and to htsr£ i*-' 
flic^e4 their vengeance upon hire, l^ appeal tO| I call to wit-' 
ne^s, jou, O ye hilU and groves of Alba ! you, the demelished 
Aibaii altars ! eyer accounted holy by the Romans, and coSval 
widi our peligidli, but which Clodius; in his mad fnry, haviHf 
^«t cut down, and levelled the most sacred groves, had sun£ 
under heaps of common buildings ;-~I appeal to you, I call yoii 
to witness, whether your altars, your divinities, your powers, 
which he had polluted with all kinds of wickedness, did not 
avenge themselves when this wretch was extirpated? And 
thou, O holy Jupiter ! from the height of thy sacred mount, 
whose lakes, groves, and boundaries, he had so often contami- 
nated with his detestable imparities ;— -and you, the other 
deities, whom he had insulted, at length opened your eyes to 
punish this enormous offender. By you, by you, and in your 
sight, was the sl9W> but the righteous and merited vengeance 
executed upon him. 

In pronouncing this passage, it is evident that 
the speaker must raise his voice ^t I appeal^ &ic. 
and, with a force and rapidity bordering on en- 
thusiasm, continue the voice in this pitch till 
the invocation of Jupiter, who, as the supreme 
being, is supposed to be present; and to be too 
sacred to be addressed with the same violence 
as inanimate objects; for which reason the 
speaker must lower his voice into a solemn mo- 
notone, and continue in his lower tone with in- 
creasing force to the end. 

Asyndeton and Polysj/ndeton. 

Asyndeton and Polysyndeton, or Omission 
and Redundance of Copulatives, are figures by 
which the thought and language are strengthen- 
ed and invigorated either by leaving out or re- 
peating the conjunctive particles. The learned 
Dr. Ward says, that ** the Asyndeton leaves out the 
, connecting particles, to represent either the 
celerity or an action, or 4:he haste and eager* 



4C. 



4^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 5213 

^ : ness of the speaker; and that the Polysyiidetoii 
** adds a weight and gravity to an expression, 
** and makes what i$ said to appear with an air 
of solemnity, and, by retarding the course of 
the sentence, gives the mind an opportu- 
nity to consider and reflect upon every part 
distinctly." 

System of Orator jfy vol.ii. pp. 50, 51. 

That these figures are very properly employed* 
to signify swiftness or slowness of thought or 
action, it cannot be denied ; but that they are 
not always so employed is evident from a thou- 
sand examples. But though we frequently omit 
the particles, for the sake of a greater variety 
and compactness of style, and to avoid a too te- 
dious repetition, yet we ought never to intro- 
duce them but where the thought requires it, 
and where they seem to accumulate force and 
emphasis to a subject. 

There is an example of both these figures in 
a passage of Demosthenes, which may serve to 
explain these observations. 

For as to naval power, and the number of forces, and re. 
venues, and a plenty of martial preparations, and, in a word, 
as to other things that may be esteemed the strength of a statej^ 
these are all both more and greater than in former times j but 
all these things are rendered useless, inefficacious, abortive, 
through the power of corruption. Philippic iii. 

In the first part of this sentence, the repeti- 
tion of the conjunction and seems to add to the 
strength of the particulars it enumerates, and 
«ach particular demands a deliberate and em* 
phatic pronunciation in the rising inflexion ; but 
the last part of the sentence, without the partis- 
cles, being expressive of the impatience and re* 

p 3 



n^ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR/ 

grct of the speaker, requires a swifter pfbhUn* 
ciation of the particulars. 

In the exoraium to Cicero's Second Oration 
against CatiHne, we have an instance of the 
Asyndeton which is much celebrated. 

At length, at length, O Romans ! have we driven, or di- 
spatched, or forced into a voiuhtafy retreat^ Lucius Catiliiie, 
intoxicated with insolence, breathing out guilt, impiously ine- 
^itating the destruction of his country, and threatening yo^ 
and this city Vrith all the calamities of lire and sword. He i^ 
gone, iie is vanished^ he is escaped, he is sallied o\|t. 

s 

The latter member of this passage, which 
forms the figure Asyndeton, must be pronpuhced 
with a swiftness expressive of the flight of Catir 
line; but this swiftness should rather be in the 
pronunciation of the words themselves than in 
omitting the pauses between them: for it may 
be laid down as a good general rule, that where-: 
ever there is a particle omitted there must al- 
ways* be a pause ; and though, in the presentex- 
ample, the pauses should not be so' long as in 
solemn and deliberate protiunciation, yet it 
ought to be quite as perceptible, and bear the 
^une proportion to the time taken up in deliver-^ 
ingthe words. • 

These figures partake of the nature of the 
Aparithmesis, or Enumeration, and require the 
same inflexion of voice on each particular, as in 
the Series or Climax ; but, as was before observ- 
ed, though the Polysyndeton, or repetition of 
|)article5, generally requires a solemn, deiibe*^ 
rate, and- emphatic pronunciation on each partis 
cu}ar> th^ Asyndeton, or omi^ion of particiejSi^ 
tloes not always require a greater swiftness aini 
|»ecipitancy; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 2is 

I shall illustrate both these positions by ex- 
amples from the Scripture : 

fiiit Ikc fruit oithe spirit is love, joy, peace, loBg-suffcring, 
gentleness, goodness, faiths meekness, temperance; againit 
such tbere is no law. 

In pronouncing this passage, we find it ne- 
cessary to pause considerably after each word, 
that each may be distinctly apprehended; no- 
thing like swiftness or precipitancy is required 
here, but a calmness and deliberation suited to 
the sense of the text : but, in the following pas- 
sage from Romans, viii. 35, every particular re- 
quires a degree of emphasis. 

Who shall separate as from the love of Christ? Shall tri- 
bulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness 
or peril, or sword ? 'Nay, in ail these things we are more than 
conquerors, through him that loved as. 

Here the members of the sentence, being in- 
terrogations beginning with a verb, require the 
rising inflexion approaching to a monotone, 
with a considerable stress upon each) but parti- 
cularly on the last, where the voice must slide 
much higher than on tl^e rest; but each porr 
tion in the succeeding beautiful climax must 
have the falling inflexion, except the last, at 
a^eature : 

For I am persuaded that aei^er deat^ nor life; nor angels^ 
tior principalities, nor powers; nor things present, nor thmgs 
to come ; nor height nor depth ; nor any other creature, shali 
be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ 
Jesus our Lord. 

This passage contains five portions of words, 
«ach portion, except the last, forming a class of 
words associated either by their similitude or opr 
position: each of these classes, except the last, 

P 4 



2X6 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

requires the falliilg inflexion, with some degree 
of emphasis on the last word. The voice must 
be low, firm, and deliberate, upon the first por- 
tion at life, and increase its force, loudness, and 
elevation, by the smallest degrees ; and in the 
same inflexion on powers^ come, and depth: on 
creature the voi^e should adopt the rising in- 
flexion, and then lower its tone deliberately and 
gradually to the end, 

Enantidsis. 

Enantiosis, or Antithesis^ is a figure, by 
which things, very different or contrary, are con- 
trasted or placed together, that they may mutu- 
ally set off and illustrate each other. 

Few of the figures of rhetoric derive more 
beauty from a proper pronunciation than this. 
The understanding is not more enlightened 
by a contrast in the thought, than the ear is 
gratified by expressing this contrast with a suit- 
able antithesis of the voice. Nothing can bet- 
ter illustrate the force and beauty of this figure 
than a passage in Sterne's sermon on the house 
of mourning and the house of feasting, where, 
describing the house of feasting, he says : 

When the gay and smih'ng aspect of things ha$ begun to 
leave the passages to a man's heart thus thoughtlessly unguard- 
ed — when kind and caressing looks of every object without 
that can flatter his senses, have conspired with the enemy 
ivithin to betray him and put him oif his defence— when music 
likewise hath lent her aid, and tried her power upon the pas* 
fiions— ^wben the voice of singing men and the voice of singing 
women, with the sound of the viol and the lute, have broke in 
mpon his soul, and in sopie tender notes have touched the se- 
cret springs of rapture-^^that moment let us dissect and look 
into Jiis heart — see how vain! how weak ! how empty a thing 
it is J Look through its several recesses«-those pure mansions 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. an 

formed for the reception of innocence and virtue— sad spec- 
tacle ! behold those fair inhabitants now dispossessed— turned 
out of their sacred dwellings, to make room— for what ?— at 
the best* for levity and indiscretion— perhaps for folly—it may 
be for more impure guests, which possibly, in so general a riot 
of the mind and senses, may take occasion to enter unsuspect- 
ed at tke same time. 

In pronouncing this passage, the voice ought 
to assume a plaintive tone approaching to a mo- 
notone, and proceed in this manner till it comes 
to the springs of rapture^ when the former of 
these w^ords is to have the falling and the latter 
the rising inflexion of voice, sliding up to a con- 
siderable height; then the voice must fall sud- 
denly into a low tone, with a severity, approach- 
ing to indignation, at the really wretched state 
of the heart, under the disguise of so much 
seeming happiness. This sudden alteration 
of the voice, from high and plaintive to low 
and indignant, will wonderfully set off the con- 
trast in the description, and give double energy 
and beauty to the thought. 

We have another instance of this beautiful 
figure in Shippen's speech, in Chandler's Par- 
liamentary Debates, where he shows the ineffi- 
cacy of honest counsel, when once vice and 
luxury have gained the ascendant in a state. 

If there are in this new parliament any men devoted to 
their private interest, and who prefer the gratification of their 
passions to the «afety and happiness of their country, who can 
riot witliout remorse in the plunder of their constituents, who 
can forget the anguish of guilt in the noise of a feast, the 
pomp of a drawing-room, or the glare of an equipage, and 
think expensive wickedness and the gaieties of folly equiva- 
lent to the fair fame of fidelity and the peace of virtue— to 
them I shall speak to no purpose; for I am far from imagi- 
ning any power in my words to gain those to truth who have 
resigned their hearts to avarice or ambition^ or to prevail upon 
men to change opinions, which they have indeed never be- 



ti^ Rhetorical grammar. 

lieved, though they are bired to assert theixu For ihtie is ^ 
degree of wickedness wbic^ no reproof or argament can re* 
claim, as there is a degree of stupidity which no instruction 
can enlighten. Chandler's FarliamaniaTy Debates^ 174}. 

In pronouncing this passage, we must begia 
the first part in a plaintive tone of voice, and 
continue this tone till the word virtues here the 
. voice must be suspended some time in the ris- 
ing inflexion, after which it must drop into a low 
solemn tone on to them, &c. — this tone must con- 
tinue nearly till the end, when, at For there is, 
&c. to this tone must be added a degree of 
asperity and indignation with which the passage 
must close. 

There are certain examples of this figure, 
where, though the words and thoughts are op- 
posed to each other, they are in so small por- 
tions, and succeed each other so rapidly, that it 
would have the appearance of affectation to 
endeavour to make any great difference in 
pronouncing them. Thus Ciceror, speaking of 
rompey, says ; 

He waged more wars than others had read ; conquered 
more provinces than others had governed ; ajid had been 
(rained up from his youth to the art of war ; not by the pre- 
cepts of others, but by' his own commands ; not by miscar- 
riages in the field, but by victories; not by campaigns, but 
by iriumf^s. Fro, Leg, Man. c» x. 

In pronouncing this passage, the opposing 
parts ought to have no more diversity than 
what is required by the harmony of the sen- 
tence; but, in order to show the contrasted 
parts distinctly, it will not be improper to m^e 
a longer pause between them than if there were - 
no opposition in the sense ; a pause of some 
JengUi at wars, provinces, others, and^^/rf, wiU 



J 



RHfiTOfetCAL GRAMMAR. «i» 

be quite sufficient to show the antithesis in the 
thought 

The same observations are applicable to an- 
other passage of Cieero, where, opposing the 
conduct of Genres, when governor of Sicily, to 
that of Marcellus, who took Syracuse, the ca^ 
pital of that island, he says^ 

Compare (his peace, with that war; the arrival of this go- 
vernor, with the victory of that general ; his profligate troops^ 
with the invincible army of the other ; the luxury of the for^ 
pier, with the temperance of the latter: you will say that Sy- 
racuse was founded by hin^ who took it, and taken by hin^ 
who held it when founded. 

In pronouncing this passage, it will be neces- 
sary to make a considerable pause between each 
opposing part ; and this, with the emphasis that 
naturally lajls on thgse parts, will sufficiently di-- 
versify tihem to the ear, 

There are other instance^ where, though the 
contrasted part's consist but of few words, they 
require, in pronouncing them, a diversity of 
voice, Thijs }n 3lair's Sernjon pn Gentleness : 

As there is a worldly happiness whidi God perceives to be 
no more than disguised ti^isery ; ^ there are worldly honours 
which in his estimation s^re ceproach ; sp there is a worldly 
wisdom which in his sight is foQlishness. Of this worldly wis- 
dom the characters are given in the Scriptures, and placed in 
/contrast with thpse of the wisdom which is fjpcm above. The 
one is the wisdom of the crafty ; the other, that of the up* 
right: the one terminates in selfishness; the other in charity: 
the one i^ full of strife and bitter envyii^s } the other of merc;y 
and t>f gocki fruits. 

The first principal constructive part of the 
first sentence of th;s passage must be pro- 
nounced in a somewhat elevated tone of voice, 
^od end with the rising inflexion at reproach p> 



tiMX RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

then» after a pause, the voice must drop into a 
somewhat lower tone, with which the last mem- 
ber must be pronounced^ The opposing parts 
in the rest of the passage must be pronounced 
so as to pause after Tlie one, &c. and give the 
first members a higher tone, ending with the 
rising inflexion on crafty^ selfishness^ and envy-- 
ings ; then, after a pause, the last member must 
be pronounced in a somewhat lower tone, and 
end with the falling inflexion. 

ParaUpsis. 

' Paralepsis, or Omission^ is a figure by 
which the orator pretends to conceal or pass by 
what he really means to declare and strongly to 
enforce. 

Whatever we seem to give up, as a matter of 
small consequence, we generally pronounce in 
a higher and softer tone of voice than the rest; 
this is accompanied with an air of indiflference 
that seems to make light of what we mention, 
and this indiflference generally leads us to end 
the particulars with the suspension of voice pro- 
perly called the rising inflexion. Thus Cicero, 
in his defence of Sextius, introduces his cha- 
racter in the following manner, with a design 
of recommending him to the favour of the 
judges : 

I might say many things of his liberality, kindness to hia 
domestics, his command in the army, and moderation during 
l)is office in the province ; but the honour of the state pre- 
sents itself to my view, and calling me to it, advises me to 
omit these lesser matters* 

« 

. The first part of this sentence should be.spok^ 



RttfilTOftlCAL GRAMMAR; 'tfsfl 

in a soft high tone of voice, with an air of in* 
difference, as if waving the advantages arising 
from his client's character j but the latter part 
assumes a lower and firmer tone, which greatly 
enforces and sets off the former. 

The same observations hold good in the pro»- 
nunciation of the following passage of his Ora- 
tion against Rullus, who had proposed a law to 
sell the public lands : 

I do not complain of the diminution of our revenues, and 
the woeful effects of this loss and damage. I omit what may 
give every ond occasion for a very grievous and just com- 
plaint, that we could not preserve the principal estates of the 
public, the finest possession of the Roman people, the fund of 
our provisions, the granary of our wants, a revenue entrusted 
with the state ; but that we must give up those lands to Rul- 
lus, which, after the power of Sylla, and the largesses of th6 
Gracchi, are yet left us ; I do not say, this is now the only 
revenue of the state, which continues when others cease ; 19 
an ornament in peace, fails us not in war, supports the army, 
and does not fear an enemy. I pass over all these things, and 
reserve them for my discourse to the people, and only speak 
atjpresent of the danger of our peace and liberties. 

Every member of this sentence, where there 
is a pause, must be pronounced with the rising 
inflexion, commonly called a suspension of 
voice ; the whole must have an air of indif- 
ference, except the two or three last members, 
where the voice must fall into a lower and firmer 
tone at a?id reserve them, and continue in this 
tone to the end. 



Anacoendsis. 

Anacoenosis, or Communicationy is a figure 
by which the speaker applies to his hearei"s or 
opponents for their opinion upon the point in 



MS EHETORICAt GRAMMAK. 

debate^ Thus CiQero, in his Oration for CasK 
cina, appeals to Piso: 

Svpposie^ Piso> tlmt taiy penton had dmen yon from your 
fcoose oy violexKx, bow would yoa have behaved? 

A similar appeal he makes use of in his Ora- 
tion for Rabinus. 

' But wliat could you bave done in such a case, and at sucb 
iijuiW2tiire?«*">when to have sat still, or to have withdrawii, 
would have been cowardice ; when the wicKedness and fury 
of Saturninus had sent for you Into the Capitol, and the con* 
jmk had called you to protect the safety and liberty of your 
country ? Whose authority, whose voice, which party would 
.you have followed ? and whose orders would you nave chosen 
to obey ? 

" This figure,*' says an ingenious author, '* has 
•* soipething of the air of conversation j and 
" though public discourses ought not to be 
•* turned into mere conversation, yet a proper 
** and decent mixture of such a sort of freedom 
*^ entertains our hearers, both on account of it^ 
^^ variety, and its apparent condescension and 
** good-nature/* Gibborfs RkeloriCy^pAGS. 

From the account we have given of this figure, 
it is sufficiently plain that it ought to be pro- 
nounced in an easy familiar nudUle tone of 
^oace y without passion, and with such a frank- 
Bess and openness of manner, as, if we were 
fuJly satisfied of the justice of our cause, and 
venture it to be decided on the common prin- 
ciples of reason and equity. 

We have a shining example of this figure in 
the speech of the Lord Chief Justice to King 
Henry the Fifth, to excuse himself for commit- 
tio^ him to prison for striking him in the exe- 
cution of ms office, when he was prince at 
Wal^s. 



HttETORtCAL GRAMMAR. t2% 

i ^en did use the person of yaur father ( 
Tke ims^^ of his power lay then in rae^ 
And in tlv administration ofhis law. 
While 1 was busy for the commonwealth, 
Yoirr highness pleased to forget ray pkK^e, 
The majesty and po w*r of law and justic.e. 
The iiTKige of the king whom I presented. 
And struok me in the very seat ofjudgm^nt ; 
Whereon, as an offender to your fether, 
I gave bold way to my authority. 
And did commit you. If the deed were iH, 
Be you cxmtented, wearing now the garland, ' 
To nave a *on set your decrees at nought. 
To pluck down justice from your awful bench. 
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safety of your person,— 
Nay more, to spurn at your most royal image. 
And mock your working in a second body, 
^Question your royal thoughts, make the case year's 5 
' £e now the ^her, and propose a son ; 
Hear your own dignity so much profanM ; 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted ; 
Behold yourself so by a son disdainM ; 
And then imagine me taking your part. 
And in yoar pow'r so silencing your son. 
After tfu* cold consid'rance, sentence me; 
And, as you are a king, speak in your state 
What I have done thiat misbecame my place. 
My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 

T!ie pronunciation of this speech will derive 
it$^ greatest beauty from an attention to the Ana- 
coenosiS) beginning at the eleventh line. The 
precediiig lines must paint the dignity of the 
<^Bce, the atrocity of the blaw, and the courage 
and reflation of the commitment; but the suc- 
ceeding lines must assiume a different style : they 
must begin by a frankness of manner approach- 
lAg to indifference, but gradually assume a dig- 
nity, as they begin to describe objects of power, 
authority, and grandeur. An easy and almost 
.indifferent manner takes place again at 2ue;f-^ 



524 RfiDfitORICAL GRAMMAR, 

tion your royal thoughts 3 but this mannef, ^9 
in the preceding part, naturally slides into one 
more dignified at Hear your own dignky so 
much prof an' d, &c. — but at the lines And then 
imagine mey &c. the voice again assumes the 
plain, open, frank, indifferent tone, till the con-^ 
eluding lines After this cold consid! ranee y &c. 
when the voice assumes a firmer tone, to in- 
dicate a consciousness of the justice of the 
cause, and a confidence in the uprightness of the 
determinatibn. 

Hypotypdsis. 

Hyportposis, or Lively Description^ is a re- 
presentation of things in such strong and glow- 
ing colours, as to make them seem painted or 
transacted to the hearer's imagination. 

This is the definition of Jhe Hypotyposis, 
which we find in most of our books of rhetoric : 
but if the definition of a figure, which has been 
given at the beginning of this part of the pre- 
sent work, be a just one. Description is n<> 
more entitled to the appellation of a figure than 
Narration, Contemplation, Reflexion,. or any si- 
milar expression or the mind. But, though ri- 
gorously speaking, it may not be a figure of rhe- 
toric, it is a species of writing which deserves 
a very particular consideration, as it is the sub- 
ject of delivery ; for there is no part of compo- 
sition which requires greater taste and judg- 
ment than that where the description of objects 
is strong and vivid, and where the sound seems 
an echo to the sense. Where the objects are 
common, and the subject without passion, the 
pronunciation ought to be plain, simple, and 
narrative ^ but where the objects are grand^ sub- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 225 

lime, and terrific, the delivery ought to assume 
those emotions which the objects naturally ex- 
cite. Where we describe passion, our pronun^ 
ciation must be impassioned, and thus we shall 
paint or draw a picture as it were of the objects 
or . transactions we delineate. Those who per- 
ceive the necessity and beauty of this rhetorical 
colouring, and yet want taste and discernment to 
know where to bestow it, and in what degree, 
generally overcharge the picture, and give such 
a caricature as disgusts us more than a total ab- 
sence of every ornament. Great care therefore 
must be taken in the delivery of description, that 
we do not become actors instead of describers, 
and mimics instead of relators. 

Cicero's character of Catiline is a well-known 
instance of this figure. 

He had the appearance of the greatest virtues; lie made use 
of many ill men to carry on his designs, and pretended to be in 
the interest of the best men ; he had a very engaging beha-» 
viour, and did not want industry or application; he gave into 
the greatest dissoluteness, but was a good soldier. Nor do I 
believe there ever was the like monster in the world, made up 
of such jarring and repugnant qualities and inclinations. Who 
at one time was more acceptable to the best men, and who 
more intimate with the worst? Who was once a better patriot, 
and who a greater enemy to this state? Who more devoted ' 
to pleasures, who more patient in labours ? Who more rapa- 
cious, and yet more proilise? He suited himself to the hu- 
mours of all he conversed with ; was serious with the reserved, 
and pleasant with the jocose; grave with the aged, and face- 
tious with the young ; bold with the daring, and extravagant 
with the profligate. 

"^ This description of Catiline, though uncom- 
monly strong and animated, contains no striking 
imagery, no objects of terror or surprise, no 
traits of passion or emotion, and therefore re- 

' ' ' Q 



22e RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

quires nothing in the pronunciation but a plain-^ 
ness and distinctness ; long pauses between the 
contrasted parts^ and a somewhat higher tone 
of voice in the former than the latter, in order 
the better to show the opposition : thus the 
clause. Who at one time was more acceptable to the 
best meriy should be pronounced in a more ele-* 
vated tone than, and who more intimate with the 
worst? and so of the rest. 

But in his description of the behaviour of 
Verres to a Roman citizen in the island of 
Sicily, we must accompany the words with 
every passion excited by the objects, or we 
&hall deprive the passage of its greatest force 
and beauty. 

• The unhappy man^ arrested as he was going to embark for 
his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor. With 
eyes darting fury, and a countenance distorted with cruelty, 
lie orders the helpless victim of his rage to be stripped, and 
rods to be broujght^ accusing him, but vidthoutthe least sha- 
dow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of having come to Si- 
cily as a spy. It was in vain that the unhappy man cried out^ 
♦* I am a Roman citizen ! I have served under Lucius Pre- 
iius, who is now at Panormus, and will attest my innocence!* 
The blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in his owti 
defence, ordered the infamous punishment to ' be inflicted. 
Thus, fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen publicly mangled 
with scourgihg, whilst the only words he uttered, amidst hi* 
cruel suffermgs, were, " I am a Roman citizen V With these 
he hoped to defend himself from violence and infamy; but of 
so iitlle service was tliis privilege to him, that, while he war 
thus asserting his citizenship, the order was given for his exe» 
cution — for his execution upon the cross 1 

The beginning of this passage should be ac-^ 
compahied with pity, and something of the dis- 
may of a person under the unhappy circum* 
stances described. The description of the prae- 
tor should have a tincture of that fierceness in it 
whl^h is so strongly marked. // was in vain the 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 221 

unhappy man cried out ^ I am a Roman citizen /&c* 
should be pronounced in a loud compiaiaing 
tone ; and at The biood-thdrsty praior, the voice 
must again assume a tinctui^ of the fierce. Tlic 
address to the judges should be j^onounced itt a 
lower and more tranquil tone, partaking sttongly 
of the grief such a scene must excite in every 
generous breast ; and the^ conclusion, for his 
-ejoeattion on the <:ros$, must be accompanied- 
with a low boarse tone of voice, expressive of 
that horror every Roman must feel to have i 
citiasen suffer a death destined to the meanest 
slaves. — How little did the orator suspect that 
this death, the ignominy of which seems to make 
him shudder, was soon to become the joy and 
exultation of the world ! 

Hypoiypdm. 

Instances of the Hypotyposis in verse are 
innumerable. Description seems the province 
of poetry. The scenery of nature naturally in- 
spires us with numbers, and these numbers 
heighten and embellish the beauties of nature. 

What can be more beautiful than the picture 
of a country life drawn by Virgil^ and copied by 
Dryden. 

Here ^asy quiet, a secure retreat, 
A httrmless life, thai knows not how to cheat, 
Witli home-lMred pienty the. rich owner bless> 
And rural pleasures crown his happiness. 
Unvex*d With quarrels, undisturbM with noise, 
Tlie country king hh peaceful reahn enjoys j 
Oooi grots and living lakes, the flowVy pride 
Of loeads, and s^^ms thwt through the vallety glide j 
And shady groves, that easy sleep invite, 
' And, after toiUome days, a sweet repose at night. 

Oeorg. b, u* v. ^7- 

Q2 



298 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

. This passage presents us with no sounding; 
epithets, no animated strokes of passion ; but 
a judicious reader will not therefore suppose it 
devoid of' expression : he will consider the dis- 
position such a scene would excite in the mind, 
and accompany his pronunciation' with such 
tonesas express this disposition. The tranquillity 
of this scene, therefore, must be expressed by a 
soft easy tone bordering oh the plaintive; it ad- 
mits of little or no variety, except dwelling a 
little longer than common on the word cooly the 
sound of which, it is presumed, is somewhat ex- 
pressive of the sense. 

Milton's description of rural solitude is .a 
master-piece of this kind. 

And when the sun begins to fling 

His flaring beams^ me. Goddess, bring 

To arched walks of twilight groves. 

And shadows brown that sylvan loyes« 

Of pine or monumental oak, 

Where the ru3e axq, with heaved stroke. 

Was never heard the nymphs to daunt. 

Or fright them from their hallowed haunt ; 

There in close covert, by some brook. 

Where no profaner eye may look. 

Hide me from day's garish eye. 

While the bee, with honey*d thigh. 

That at her flowVy work doth sing. 

And the waters murmuring, 

With such concert as they keep. 

Entice the dewy-feather*d sleep. // Penscrosa, 

The iirst line, and as far of the second as to 
beams, must be pronounced in a tone expressive 
of splendor; the succeeding part of the line, 
and what follows it, must assume a cool tran- 
quil tone as far as haunt ; then the voice must 
fall into a lower tone approaching to a mono- 
tone, and proceed softly and slowly to the end. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. *t^ 

The description 6f a lady's toilet, in Pope's 
'Kape of the Lock, is superlatively fine. 

And now unveird the toilet stands displayed, . . 

Each silver vase in mystic order laid. 

First rob*d in white, the nympii intent adores. 

With head uncovered; the cosmetic powers : . 

A heavenly image in the glass appears, . . 

To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears. 

Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's -side. 

Trembling begins the sacred rites of pride. 

Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here 

The various ofF'rings of the world appear. 

From each she nicely culls with curious toil. 

And decks the goddess with tlie glittering spoil ; 

This casket India's glowing gems unlocks. 

And all Arabia breathes from yonder box ; 

The tortoise here and elephant unite, 

Transform'd to combs, the speckPd and the white. 

Here files of pins extend their shining rows. 

Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. 

Now awful beauty puts on all its arras. 

The fair each moment rises in her charms. 

Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace. 

And calls forth all the wonders of her face! 

Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, \ 

And keener lightening quicken in her eyes. 

The busy sylphs surround their darling care : 

These set the head,, and those divide the hair ; 

Some fold the sleeve, while others plait tlie gowni 

And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own. 

This passage requires no great variety of voice, 
but admits ot considerable variety of expression ; 
and, as the style is mock-heroic, this expression 
may be much stronger than if the composition 
were simple and unaffected. A dignity, solem- 
nity, anfi importance of voice and manner, must 
describe the toilet and the nymph's approach to 
it, in the first six lines ; 'but the fourth couplet 
must be expressive of the dread and caution with 
which a timid servant assists a haughty bea«ty. 
. . Q 3 



?3a RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

The succeeding couplet must have all the splen- 
dor of pronunciation intihiated by its objects, 
and the next two lines must abate of this splen- 
dor, to expness the curious toil with which each 
is culled. The next four lines are to be as splen- 
did and glowing as possible. The files of pins 
must shine with gre^t dignity* and importance, 
while the several articles of the next line liaust 
be pronounced simply and without ornament; 
but the succeeding couplet has an awfulness and 
dignity approaching to devotion: the next four 
lines abate of this dignity, to express rapture 
and surprise at such sudden and increasing 
flashes of beauty ; while the four last lines de- 
scend to an expression of alertness and activity, 
concluding with a complacency and satisfaction 
at having so well performed the important task. 



Hypotypdsis. 

Under the figure called Hypotyposis may be 
classed such words as are naturally descriptive 
of the things they signify ; that is, such words as 
either from the softness or harshness, length or 
shortness, of the letters of which they are comr 
posed, are expressive of the nature of the ol>r 
j,ects for which they stand; or, as Pope has hap?* 
pily expressed it, words wlK>se soxmd is ah echo 
to the sense. The occasional coiacidence of the 
sound and sense of words has b^en an object of 
attention with all writers both ancient and mo- 
dern, and those must be severe critics indeed 
who deny the propriety and beauty of this coiifc- 
cidence. It must be confessed that the afi^ecta- 
tion of this, like every other affectation, is truly 
(iisgusting; but proves, at the same time, that 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 231 

when this coincidence of sound and sense is na- 
tural and unaffected, it is really an excellence r 
for though defects are sometimes the objects of 
imitation, they are n6t imitated as defects, but 
because they happen to be associated with some 
beauties which the imitator is unable to repre- 
sent. That there^is much of imagination in this 
imitation of the sense by the sound of words, 
must be allowed. A judicious critic has very 
justly observed, that it most frequent! v exists 
only in the fancy of the writer or reaaer, and 
that the words we often suppose to echo the 
sense havei no other resemblance than what 
arises from association*. But whencecan arise 
the very general opinion that so many words are 
really expressive of the sense they stand for? It 
must be from their being generally accompanied 
by a certaiti emotion of mind, which the mean- 
ing of the words excites and this emotion of 
mind being constantly associated with the 
words, the very sound of the words, according 
to the laws' of association, seems tinctured with 
the emotion, which naturally it has no relation 
to. This, however, sufficiently shows how natu- 
ral it is for man to accompany his words with 
emotions, .and to expect era otions when he sees 
the words that generally accompany them. 
Hence we may infer this general rule, that 
wherever there are words expressive of emo« 
tions, we ought to pronounce these words with 
the emotions they signify; that is, when tlie 
language is impassioned, and the words are not 
merely narrative or didactic ; for in this case the 
words expressive of passion are to be propouncecj 

•Rambler, N- 93. 

44 



232 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

as coolly, as if they stood for the most uninterest- 
ing objects. Thus in Pope's Essay on Man: 

Love, hope, and joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train ; 
Hate, fear, and grief, the family of Pain ; 
These mix*d with art, and to due bounds confin'd. 
Make and maintain the balance of the mind. 

It would border greatly on afFectation to give 
the first line of this passage » any distinct and 
marking expression of love, hope, and joy ; or 
the second line any strong expression of hate, 
ftar, and grief; because these passions are pre- 
sented to the mind in a philosophic vfew, and 
only mentioned as the materials of argument: 
but in the following passage from ^the same 
poet : 

Curs'd be the verse, how well soe'er it flow. 
That tends to make one worthy man my foe. 
Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear. 
Or from the soft-ey'd virgin steal a tear. 

; The^ first .line in this passage, I say, must be 
pronounced with all that keenness of resentment 
we naturally feel at injuries done to a worthy 
character : the second line must have a tinctupe 
of approbation on the word worthy, to express 
tliat character ; and the third and fourth lines 
must assume somewhat of the plaintive, as they 
naturally excite pity for amiable characters in 
distress. 

t jBut though the words themselves -frequently 
direct us to the passion we ought to express, it 
must he carefully observed, that there is often 
a master-passion, which so swallows up the 
rest, that whatever passions or emotions are 
mentioned by this leading passion, they have 
scarcely any expression oi their own, but seeni 



• RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 23X 

to fall into the general expression of the passion 
that, is principal. Thus when the Duke of York, 
after describing the entry of Bolingbrokc, gives 
an account of that of King- Richard, he says. 

As in a theatre, the eyes of men. 
After a well-gracM actor leaves the stage. 
Are idly bent on him who enters next, 
^Thinking his prattle to be tedious; 
Ev*n so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
Did scowl on Richard ; no man cry'd, God save him ! 
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home. 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head. 
Which with^such gentle sorrow he shook oW,' 
(His face still combating with tears and smiles. 
The badges of his griei and patience) 
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 
The hearts of men; they must perforce have melted. 
And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
But heaven hath a hand in these events; 
To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 

Shakspeare's Richard IL 

In this passage the prevailing passions are 
grief artd pity; these must so possess the speaker 
in reciting these lines, that no expression of con- 
tempt must accompany that word, in the fifth 
line, nor the least glimpse of joy or acclamation 
the lines that follow: a slight expression of 
meekness may accompany the word gentle ii> the 
ninth line, and the two last lines may with great 
propriety be a little diversified from the rest, by 
dropping in some measure the sorrowful, and as- 
suming the tone of reverence and resignation* 

Hypotypdsis. 

Having premised these restrictions, it may be 
observed, that there are some words which 
a^Qrd ^ speaker a good opportunity of showing 



iU RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

bis expression by the very nature of the letter* 
of which they are composed. Thus the word 
a// has a ful^^ bold^ open sound, which will ad- 
mit of being dwelt upon longer than common^ 
especially if the language is animated; either 
when emphatical, as m Satau^s speech to Beel- 
2ebub> in Paradise Lost> 

——What though the field be lost, 
AU is not lost : 

or as narrative, in the exordium to the First 
Book: 

Of maji^s first disobedience^ and the firuit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste^ 
BroBght death into the world, and all our woe* 
With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat; 
Sing, heavenly Muae— 



■*-«■•■ 



In these instances^ as in most others, we sel- 
dom hear the word all pronounced sufficiently 
full, and expressive of the extent of its signifi- 
cation. The word shame will generally admit of 
being dwelt on in the same manner, as in the 
following example : 

Strong and weighty, O Catiline ! is the decree of the senate 
we* can now produce against you; neither is wisdom wanting 
in this state, nor authority in this assembly; but we, let me 
here Ukt shiaane to myself, we, the consuls, are wanting in our 
duly. Cicero against Catiline, Orat. i. 

The word detestable is seldom used but whenr 
the language is animated, and then an uncom*- 
com force upon the accented syllable test, that 
is, as Shakspeare calls it, in his picture of anger, 
'" hqlding hard the breath, and pronouncing.it 
** through the fixed teeth," will give it an ei^ 
pression of detestation very suitable to the idea 
it excites.. This manner of pronouncing may 



. RHETORICAL GRAMMARv HA 

be supposed to be what Shakspeare meant in 
Hamlet's advice to the players, by *' suiting the 
" action to the word, and the word to the ac- 
** tion." The actor cannot suit the word to the 
action any other way than by pronouncing; it. 
Thus where Cassius, in Julius Caesar, describes 
Caesar and himself plunging into the Tyber. 



Upon the word. 



Accoutred as I was, I plunged in. 
And bade him follow; so indeed he did. 

We may with the utmost propriety give a 
downward plunge with the arm, to express the 
action implied by the word, and I think as pro- 
perly accompany this word and action with a 
full, deep, hollow, forcible tonie of voice as suit- 
able to the action ; this, if overdone, or come 
tardy oflF, as Shakspeare expresses it, I own is 
truly disgusting: but let those who dissuade 
youth frcnn attempting expression, by remind- 
ing them of the hazard they run, remember, that 
every excellence borders closely upon a blemish; 
but that unless we risk these blemishes, we can 
never hope to arrive at excellence. 

Vision. 

Visioi^ is a representation of things distant 
and unseen, as if they were actually 'present. 
This is so nearly related to the foregoing figure, 
as to be often confounded with it; but tnere 
seems to be at bottom as much difference be- 
tween this figure, where the speaker sees the ob- 
ject or transaction, and the Hypotyposis, where 
he only describes them, as there is between. ^ 
painting ^nd an^ original. This is certain ; V>« 



2J6 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

sion requires a much more animated pronuncia- 
tion than Description : in the former, the passions 
are excited by the sight of the objects them- 
selves ; in the latter, only by the remembrance 
of them. Vision, therefore, is a figure which is 
never employed, but when the composition is 
highly inipassioned, and the writer becomes a 
species or actor. Accordingly, we seldom find 
it employed in prose : it is among the poets'we 
must look for instances; nor are they to be very 
frequently found even here 3 for we must not 
look upon such examples ' as are generally 
brought of this figure as real instances of it : this 
figure is never genuine but when the writer 
supposes he actually sees the objects he de- 
scribes; so that however strong and glowing 
description may be, yet without this circum- 
stance it as not a true example of the figure in 
question. 

Pope has given us a striking instance of this 
figure in the beginning of his Elegy to the me- 
mory of an unfortunate Lady. 

What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shadc> 

Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 

Tis she — but why that bleeding bosom gor^d* 

Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? 

O ever beauteous, ever friendly, tell. 

Is it in heav'n a crime to love too well ? 

To bear too tender,'Or too firm a hesirt. 

To act a lover's, or a Roman's part? 

Is thSre no bright reversion in the sky 

For those who greatly think or bravely die ? 

No composition can require a more animated 
pronunciation than this passage : if the reader 
does not repeat it nearly as if he saw a ghost 
beckoning to him, he cannot be said to deliver 
it properly ^''the words .would contradict the ac- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. S51 

tion. Whether an ekgy may with propriety it>e- 
gin with so much* fire is a* question I leave 
others to decide; but if so much fire be assumed 
in the writing, it ought undoubtedly to be ex- 
pressed in the speaking. The truth is, Pope's 
personal regard for the subject of this elegy, and 
his feelings for her unhappy fate, seem to have 
carried him beyond his usual accuracy in com- 
, position, as well as his delicacy of moral senti- 
ments. , For what can excuse his reproach of 
heaven for disapproving of suicide, and. his apo- 
logy for this atrocious crime, by treating tho3e, 
as mean-spirited wretches who dare not be guiltf 
of it*? What is remarkable too is, that the lines 
in which these sentiments are conveyed are as 
feeble and childish as the sentiments are shock- 
ing ; but when the p\)et descends from this im- 
pious flight at heaven, and describes the truly 
pitiable view of an amiable object driven to aji 
act of desperation, and of the forlorn and neg- 
lected state of her poor remains in a foreign 
clime — then.we feel all the magic of his p^n — 
we sympathise with the object of his pity, and 
are transported to the very spot where she lies 
numbered with the unhonoured dead. These 



« 



Why bade ye else, ye pow'rs ! her soul aspire 
Above the vulgar flight of low desire^ 
Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes. 
The glorious faults of angels and of gods : 
Thence to their images on earth it flows. 
And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. 
Most souls, 'tis true, peep out but once an age. 
Dull sullen prisoners in the body's cage; 
Dim hghts of life, that burn a length of years 
Useless, unseen, like lamps in sepulchres ; 
Like eastern kings, a lazy state they keep. 
And close confin'd to their own palace sleep. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

beauties are so bewitching as to make us forget 
the former part of the elegy, which, if united 
with lines less enchanting, would have startled 
rxs with their falsehood and pernicious tendency. 
But, to quit this digression (which it is hoped wUl 
l>e pardoned for the sake of unexperienced youth, 
to whom it may be useful), we ought to pro- 
nounce the two first lines of this passage with a 
strong expression of surprise, mixed with some 
degree of fear,*^the voice assuming a high and 
sott tone. *Tis she must be pronounced with 
a suddenness expressive of joy at having disco- 
vered a lost, loved object ; and the rest of the 
passage must assume the plaintive, with the 
voice in the rising inflexion at the end of every 
second line. ' > 

Shakspeare's description of Dover Cliff is a 
beautiful instance of diis figure ; for it is not the 
description of a thing past or absent, but as ac- 
tually present to the speaker. 

Come on, sir, here's the place— stand stllL How dreadful 
And fiizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so lowt 
The crows and chouglis, that wing the midway air» 
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful tr^de ! 
. Methinks he seems no bigger than his head ! 
The fishermen that walk upon the beach 
Appear like mice; and yon tali anch'ring bark 
Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy , 
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge. 
That on the unnumberd pebbles idly chafes. 
Cannot be heard so high. Til look no more« 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
.Topple down headlong. 

Shf/Jtspeart^s King Lear, 

This description commences, after a long 
pause, in a low tone of voice, expressive of sur- 
prise and fear, at How dreadful^ ^c. The 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 2W 

craws and choughs, &ۥ must have more of sur- 
prise and less of fear,, and be in a somewhat 
higher tone of voice. The next sentence as^ 
sumes a lower tone, with more of fear, especial^- 
ly ' on the exclamation, dreadful trade / The 
succeeding sentences have a little lighter tone 
of voice, and more of surprise, with a very con- 
siderable pause after each, as if the speaker took 
some time to consider the object before he de- 
scribed it. The last sentence concludes in a 
lower tone, expressive of uneasiness at the con* 
sequences of continuing any longer on so dreads 
ful a precipice. 

Simile. 

This figure may be justly esteemed one c^ the 
most useful lights and greatest ornaments of com- 
position. In prose it greatly clears and enforces 
a thought, and in poetry wonderfully enlivens 
and embellishes it. Little can be said resplec*^ 
ting the pronunciation of this figure when in 
prose, only it may be remarked that it generally 
admits of a longer pause than ordinary before it, 
that the reader may be prepared for the transi- 
tion. Thus in Cicero's Fii;st Oration against 
Catiline : 

If, in so dangerous a rebellion, this parricide alone should be 
exterminated, we may perhaps for a short time seem to be 
Relieved from anxiety and terror ; but the danger will remain, 
and will be wholly shut up in the veins and bowels of the 
commonwealth. As men grievously sick, when they are io 
the burning heat of a raging fever, upon taking a draught of 
cold water seem at first to be refreshed by it, but afterwuWs 
»re more heavily an4 violently attacked by their distemperi 
in like manner tki$ disease, under which the republic labauf s. 
will gain a respite by the extinction of Catiline, but will 
»flerwards, as the rest of liis accomplices st^l survive, retard 
upoa us with rcdoabkd fury. 



240 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR* 



The simile in this passage has nothing in it 
that requires a pronunciation different from the 
rest ; bujt in poetry this figure always admits of 
being pronounced in a lower tone of voice than 
the preceding lines; and this tone generally falls 
into the plaintive, and approaches to a mono- 
tone. For as the mind in forming a simile is 
seldom agitated with any very strong passion, 
that tone of voice which expresses serene, tran- 
quil contemplation seems to be the tone suitable 
to the simile ; and this, if I am not mistaken, will 
be found to be the plaintive tone, approaching 
to a monotone. Not that this monotone is to 
be continued through the whole simile : if it 
does but commence with a q[ionotone, it may 
slide gradually into such a diversity of inflexion 
as the sense seems to require. So in that beauti- 
ful simile in Parnel's Hermit, where a pious 
mind agitated with doubts is compared to a 
calm lake disturbed by a falling stone. 

A life so sacred, such 5ierene repose, 

SeemM heav'n itself, till one suggestion rose,-* 

That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;^— 

This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway. 

So whea a smooth expanse receive imprest 

Calm nature's image on its watery breast, 

Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, . \ 

And skies beneath with answ'ring colours glow: 

But if a stone the gentle sea divide. 

Swift ruffling circles curl on every side ; 

And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun. 

Banks, trees, and skies, jn thick disorder run. 

•In reading this simile, the voice should fall 
into a plaintive monotone at So '*when a smooth 
expanse, and continue this tone till the words 
xvafry breast, the first of which must have the 
falliDg, and the last the rising inflexion. The 



I 



RHEtORiCiAL GRAMMAR; 241 

inflexion; The next couplet must be pronoun- 
ced differently, that is, the jisjng inflexion on 
grow, and the falling on glow^ to express the 
portion of perfect sense it includes. The rest of 
the simile must be pronounced with conside- 
rable variety; the voice must assume a: brisker, 
swifter tone, and the inflexions must be variousy 
to express the variety of objects thrown tt)ge'-) 
ther on a sudden. .' 

But in the following simile^ from the same 
beautiful poem, where the youth shows the her- 
mit the cup he has stolen, the voice must con-f 
tinue in a monotone till the last member, and 
looks with fear, which must end with the rising 
inflexion : ' 

Then pleased and thankful from Ih^ porch they go. 
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe: 
His cup was vanishM ; for, in secret guisej 
The younger guest purloined the glittering prize; 

As one who spies a serpent in his way. 
Glistening and basking in the summer ray, 
l3isorder'd stops, to shun the danger near. 
Then Walks with faintness on> and looks with fear,—* 
So seem'd the ^ire, when, far ypon the road. 
The shining spoil his wily partner show'di 

' The same obsefvations may bel applied to a 
simile in a beautiful poem called The Shipwreck^ 
canto ii; v. 175 : 

While o*er the foam the ship inipetUoiis fltes^ 

Th' attentive jpilbt still the helm applidsi 

As in pursuit, along th' aerial way. 

With ardent eye the falcon marks his preyj 

Each motion watches of the doubtful chace, ^ 

Obliquely wheeling through the liquid space ; *T' 

So, governM hy the steersman's glowing hands. 

The regent helm her motion still commands^ 

Here the voice falls into a lower tone at the 
third line, and continues this tone to the end of 

R 



U2 RHETORICAL GRAMMAIfu 

the fourth, which concludes with the rising ib-' 
flexion : the next couplet requires exactly the 
same tone of voice, but must have the rising in* 
flexion m a somewhat higher tone on space, 
when, after a long pause, the voice begins the 
last couplet in a higher tone than the two pre- 
ceding ones, and admits of a variety of inflexion: 
on several of its parts. 

But when in descriptive poetry a simile is in-* 
troduced to illustrate some grand or terrible ob- 
ject, the monotone is no less suitable than in 
placid subjects. This may be illustrated by. a 
passage fK>m the beautiful poem, last quoted :. 

Rous'd fVom his trance. He mounts with eyes aghast^ 
When o*er the ship in undulation vast 
A giant surge down, rushes (rom on high^ 
• And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie ; 
As when, Britatinia's empire to maintain,. 
Gr^at Hawke descends in thunder on. the mainiw 
Around the brazen voice of battle roars. 
And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; 
Beneath the storm their shattered navies groan. 
The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone t 
Thus the torn vessel felt th* enormous stroke. 
The beams beneath the thund'ring deluge broke. 

In reading this passage the voice ought to fall » 
into a lower tone at the fifth line, and con- 
tinue nearly in a monotone till thunder on 
the maiuy the first of which words must h^ve 
the falling, and the last the rising inflexion: 
the next couplet assumes the same low mono 
tone, and continues it to hmtile sfi&res^ which 
adopt the falling and rising inflexions like thun-- 
der and main: the succeeding couplet com- 
mences and continues the monotone like the 
last till the two words zojie and zo?2e^ the first of 
which has the fallings and tlie last the rising in- 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR^ 249 

flexioh^ in a somcwh W higher tone than in. th^ 
two former lines : but the last couplet, which 
applies the simile, berins in a high tone of voice^ 
adopts the falling inflexion on vessel, and lowers^ 
the Yoice gradually on the last line to the end- 

Ptosopopeiai 

pRosoPopEiAj or Personification^ is the in-k 
testing of qualities or things inanimate with the 
character or persons^ or the introducing x)f dead 
or absent persdns as if they were alive and pre-» 
«ent. This is sit once one of the boldest and 
finest figures in rhetoric. Poets ard prodigal in 
their use of this figure, but orators more sparing, 
as nothing but a degree df enthusiasm can make 
it appear natural; The general rule for pro- 
nouncing this species of figure will be easily 
conceived, when we recollect that, wherever we 
give language to a character, we must give that 
language such a pronunciation as is suitable to 
that character. Thus, when Cicero introduced 
Milo as speaking to the citizens of Rome : 

Should he, holding up his bloody sword, cry out, *' Attend^ 
♦5 1 pray, heafken^ O citizens 1 I have killed Clodius j hy this 
sword, and by this right handy I have kept off his rage from 
your throats, which no iaws^ no courts of judicature could re-' 
strain; it is by my means that justice, equity, laws* liberty, 
shame, and modesty, remain iti the city.*'— *Is it to be feared 
liow the city would bear this declaration ? Is tliei'e any one> 
who, in such a case, would not approve and commend it ? 

In pronouncing this passage we must give the 
Words of Milo all that energy and fire w^nich we 
suppose would actuate him on such an occa- 
sion* The right arm must be lifted up and ex- 
tended ; the voice loud and elevated, as if speak-» 

R 2 



244 RH2TORICAL GR'ARlM/iR. 

ing to a multitude, and almost every word must 
be emphatical; a long pause must pfecfede the* 
first question, wbkh must begin in a low tone of 
yoiee, and end with the rising inflexion; arwJ a^ 
the last question is in opposition Ik) the first, by 
contrasting approbation with disapprobation, it 
ought to be pronounced differently, and end 
with the falling inflexion ; according to the rule 
laid down irfi the Elements of Elocution, vol, i. 
|).2r97. 

But here a question will naturally arise about 
the force we are to give to this figure when we 
only read it. Are we, it will be demanded, to 
^ive all the force and energy which w^ suppose 
Milo made Bse of, when we merely le^d it in 
Cicero's orations E Yes, it may be ansivrered^ if we 
read these orations oratorically. But if we read 
them only to inform our hearers of tl^ subject,, 
without assuming the character of the orator, it 
is certain that there is no necessity for the same- 
force as in the rostrum. The character we ^s- 
^ume when we take up the book makes all the 
difference. The pronunciation, expected from a 
[cntleman by a. small. circle of his friends is as 
different from, that of the orator as the language 
of the orator is from the chit-chat of conversa* 
tion^ but if the gentleman should,, for the enter- 
tainment of his friends^ assume the character 
of the orator,, it is then expected that he 
should give the composition all tjie force and 
energy of which it is susceptible,, that is, all the 
force and energy that would become the cha- 
racters whose words are assumed. Thus Mil- 
ton may be road by a person who forms no pre- 
tensions to public notice in a manner very dif- 
ferently from one who pronounces from the ros- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAil. >245 

ttram; but if Milton be read to the greatest adr 
vantage, it must certainly be in the lutter, and 
«iot the former manner; though it mu^t stiU 
be carefully observed, that these two manners 
fdiffcr only in degrees of forc^ ; the tones, in- 
flexioM, and gesticulations^ are essoitially th^? 
,«ame in both. 

; It was ©bservcd, in speaking of the Hf potypo- 
^is, that there is often a leading passion* which 
•so absorbs the mind of the speaker, as to give 
^very other passion which passes through it a 
strong tincture of itself. This leading passioa 
.may, for the sake of distinction, be called pri- 
mary, and the other, secondary. If we so far 
forget the primary passion as to assume the se- 
condary entirely, we fall into mimicry, and ren- 
tier our expression, however just in other re- 
iSpects, ridiculous. Thus, in the following speech 
«f Hotspur in the first part of Henry the IVih: 

■ For it made itre mid 

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet. 
And talk, so like 4 waiting gentlewoman^ 
Oi'guns, and drums, and wounds, .{ heav'n save the mark \) 
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parma-citty for an inward bruise; 
And that it was great pity., so it wa«« 
That viilainwus saltpetre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth. 
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed 
■ So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns. 
He would himself have been a soklier- 
This baJd vmjointed chat of his^, my lorcl, 
I answer'd indirectly, as I said ; 
. And I beseech you let not his report ' . 

Come current tor an accusation 
Betwixt my love and your high raagesty. 

If the hero who pronounces this description 
were to divest himself of the primary passions, 
anger and contenipt, and go so far into the se«r 

r3 



54€ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

condary as to assutne the character he describeS| 
we might laugh at hipi as a mimic, but should 
despise' him as aman>— no;' while the leading 
passions, an^er and contempt, have proper posr 
session of him, they will keep him from a too 
servile imitation of the object of his resentment ; 
but that a considerable degree of imitation 
should be allowed in the pronunciation of thiv 
passage is not tp be disputed. Tlie same obser^ 
vations hold good in pronouncing die words of 
Cassar, in a speech of Cassius, where he is de? 
scribing that hero \inder the paroxvsms pf ^ 
fever: 



I did hear him groan: 



Ay, and that tgngue of his> that bade the Romans 
Ma(rlc hifn, and write his speeches in their books, 
Alas ! it pry^d. Give me sppne drink^ Titinius ; 
As a sicjc girl ■ ■ " ^^^ . Shakspcar^s Jiditu Casar^ 

If these word? of q«sar. Give me same 
flrinky Titinius^ yrere to be pronounced un- 
tinctured with that scorn and contempt witH 
which Cassius is overflowing, and the srn^ll fee^ 
ble voice of a sick person were to bp perfectly 
imitated, it would be i^nysrortfiy the character of 
Cassius, and fit only for the buffoon in a farce. 

These observations wil| lead us to decide iq 
many other cases. ITiere is a beautiful Prosoi 
popeia of a hoaryvheaded s>vain in Gray's filegy 
|n a Country phurch-Yard ; 

Foi' thee who, mindful of th' unhopour M dead^ 
Dost in these |ines their artless tale relate. 

If c)iance, by fonel v contemplation led. 
Some kindred spirit sbquld inquire thy fate^ 

Haply spme hpary-headed swain may say, 

'* Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, 

f f Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
ff To meet the sun upon the upland lawp/' &c. 



•ItHETORlCAL GRAMMAJR. 547 

Kothing can be conceived more truly ridicu'- 
lous, in reading this passage, than quitting the 
^melancholy tone of the relator, and assuming . 
the indifferent and rasftic accent of the old swain ^ 
*and yet no error so likely to be mistaken for a 
t>eauty by a reader .of no taste : while a. good 
reader, without entirely dropping the plaintive 
tone, will abate it a little, and give it a slight 
tincture only of the indifference and rusticity of 
the person introduced. 

But where tbe personification is assumed in- 
stantaneously, and does not arise out of any 
other passion, provided we are reading to the 
public, it ought to have exactly the same force 
and energy as in dramatic composition. Thus 
the sublime rage of Gray's Bard : 

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king,— 

Confusion on thy banners waiti 
Though fann'd by jconquest's crimson wing* j^ 

They mock the air in idle state. 
Helm nor hauberk's twisted mail. 
Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, can avail 
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears. 
From Cambria's curse^ fr6m Cambria's tears.' 

These lines, I say, demand an elevation of 
voice, and an expression of the utmost rage and 
resentment^ but in this expression we .must art- 
tend more particularly to the caution of Shak- 
^peare, " that in the very torrent, tempest, and, 
. •*• I may say, whirlwind of our passion, we mnsl 
"^ acquire and beget a temperance that may give 
•** it smoothness.*' 

The personification of pride, in Pope's Essay 
on Man, is not preceded by any other pas- 
sion, and may therefore be allowed a forcible 
«xpxes,sioa. 

R 1 



*€ 



€e 



4€ 



84S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 

Ask for what cjnd the heavenly bodies shine. 
Earth for whose use: Pride answers, "Tis fcrm'ne, 
** FoV me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r^ 
*' Buckles each herb, and spreads out ev'fy flow'r ; 
" Annual for |ne the grape, the rose renew 
" The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; 
*' Forme the mine a thousand treasures brings. 
For me heahh gushes ftom a thousand springs ; 
Seas roll to wah ipe^ suns to light me rise. 
My footstool earth, my canopy tlie skies.". 

This passage admits of a certain splepdor in 
the pronunciation expressive of the ostentation 
of the speaker, and the riches and grandeur of 
the objects introduced. 

Many other Figures of Rhetoric might be ad- 
duced ; but as few of them deserve the appella^ 
tion, and none seem to have any tiling to entitle 
them to a peculiarity of pronunciation, I shall at 
present content myself with those I have given^ 
^nd Jiope the reader will not find the directioi\^ 
I have added entirely useless* 



I '249 J 



MODULATION 
MANAGEMENT OF THE VOICE. 



CyNE of the most difllcult things in reading 
and speaking, where the subject is varied and 
impassioned, is the modulation and manage- 
ment of the voice : and this perhaps of all tne 
parts of elocution is the least capable of being 
conveyed by writing; but general rules ana 
useful bints may certainly be given, which will 
put the pupil in a capacity of feeling his own 
powers, and of improving himself. Such rules 
and hints we shall endeavour to lay down in as 
clear and summary a manner as possible. 

The first object of every speaker's attention is 
to have a smooth, even, full tone of voice : if na- 
ture has not given him such a voice, he must en- 
deavour as much as possible to acquire it : nor 
ought he to despair; for such is the force of ex- 
ercise upon the organs of speech, as t\'^ell as 
every other in the human body, that constant 
practice will strengthen the voice in any key we 
use it to ; that key therefore, which is the most 
natural, and which we have tlie greatest occa- 
sion to use, should be the key which we ought 
the most diligently to Improve. 



«a RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

Every one has a certain pitch of voice, In 
•which he is most easy to himself, and most 
agreeable to others ; this may be called the na- 
tural pitch: thi3 is the pitch in which we con- 
verse ; and this must be the basis of every im- 
provement we acquire from art and exercise. In 
order, therefore, to strengthen this middle tone, 
'we ought to read and speak in this tone as loud 
as possible, witiiout suffering the voice to rise 
into a higher key: this, however, is no easy 
ciperation : it is not v.ery difBcuit to be loud in 
a high tone; but to be loud and forcible, without 
raising the voice into a higher key, requires 
great practice and management. The best meth- 
od of acquiring this power of voice is to prac- 
tise reading and speaking some strong, animated 
passages in a small room, and to persons placed 
at as small a distance as possible : for, as we na- 
turally raise our voice to la higher key when we 
speak to people at a great distance, so we na- 
turally lower our key ^s those we speak to come 
jaearer: when, therefore, we have no idea of 
Ixeing heard at a distance, the voice will not be 
so apt to rise into a higher key when we want 
to be forcible; and consequently exerting as 
much force as we are able in a small room, and to 
people near us. Will tend to swell and strengthen 
the voice in the middle tone, A good practice 
on this tone of voice will be sucn passages as 
Macbeth's chfijlenge to Banquo's ghost, or any. 
other that are addressed imn^edi^tely to a persoii 
fiearus; 

What man dare I d^re ; 
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear^ 
The arm*d rhinoceros, pr Hyrcanian tyger; 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerve$ 
Si^U my^t txemple. Be ah've again. « 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, tsi 

And dare me to the desert with thy sword 5 
If trembling I inhibit, then protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow^ 
Unreal mock'ry, hence 1 > 

/nstructionsfor acquiring low Tones of Voice^ 

As few voices are perfect,— those which' hav^ 
good bottom often wanting a top, and inverse-^ 
iy,— care should be taken to improve by practice 
that part of the voice which is most deficient : 
for instance ; if we want to gain a bottom, we 
ought to practise speeches wnich require exer- 
tion, a little below the common pitch ; when we 
ican do this with ease, we may practise them on 
^ little lower note, and so on till we are as low 
as we desire ; for this purpose, it will be neces- 
sary to repeat such passages a3 require a full, 
audible tonje of voice in a low key: of this kind 
are those which contain hatred, scorn, or re^ 
proach ; such as the following from Shakspearc, 
where Lady Macbeth reproaches her husbaiitl 
vith want of manliness ; 



O proper stuff! 



This is jthe very painting of your fears: 
This is the airrdrawn dagger, wlijqh you said 
Led you to Duncan. Oh^ tliese flaws and starts^ 
(Impostors to true fear) would well become 
A woman's story> at a winter's fire. 
Authorised by her grandam. Shame itself! 
Why do you make such faces ? When all's done^ 
You look but on a slooL 

Or when Lady Constance, in King John, re# 
proaches the Duke of Austria with want of 
jpourage and spirit: 

T houi^lave! thou wretch! thou coward! 
Thou little valiant, great in villauiy ! 



«2 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

Thou ever strong upon th^ stronger side ! 
Thou Fortune's champion, thou dost never fight 
But w^hen her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety !. Thou art perjur'd too. 
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art tliou, 
A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
Vpon my party ! Thou cold-blopded slave. 
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side. 
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depeiyl 
Upon thy s^rs,>thy fortune, and thy strength ? 
And dost thou now fall over to. my foes? 
Thou wear a lion's hide ! Doff it for shame. 
And bang a calf's skin on tliose recreant limbs. 

IP 

Or where the Duke of Suffolk, in Henry th^ 
Sixth, curses the objects of his hatred: 



Poison be their drink. 



Cfall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste; 
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees. 
Their sweetest prospect murdVing basilisks. 
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings. 
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss, 
jAnd boading screech-owk make the concert full; 
All the foul terrors of dark-seated hell I 



' Instructions for acquiring high Tones of Voice.' 

Whe,n we would strengthen the voice in a 
higher note, it will be necessary to practise such 
passages as require a high tone of voice ; and if 
we find the voice grow thin, or approach to a 
squeak upon the high note, it will be proper ta 
swell the voice a little below this high note, and 
to give it force and audibility, by throwing it 
into a sameness of tone iapproaching the mono- 
*tone. A passage in the Oration of Demosthenes 
on the Crown will be an excellent praxis on 
this tone : 

What was the part of a faithful citizen ? of a prudent, an 
active^ and honest minister ? Was he not to secure Eubcsa^ as 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 253 

^r defence against all attacks by sea? Was he not tamake 
Bisotia our bi^rrier ofn the midland side? the cities bor- 
dering on PdaponnesQs our bulwark on that quarter? Was 
he not to attend with due precaution to the iitiijortation of 
corn, that this trade might be protected througli all its pro* 
gress up to our own.harbdur ? Was he not *o cover those di^ 
stncts which we c(Anmanded by seasonable detachments, a» 
the Proconesus, the Chersonesiis, and Tenedos? to exert 
feimself in the assembly for this purpose? while with equal 
zeal he laboured to gain others to our mterest and alliance, as 
Byzaiitiiira, Abydos, and Eubcjea ? Was he not to cut off the 
best atd most important resources of our enemies, and to sup*^ 
ply those in which our country was defective ?— And all tliis* 
you gained by my counsels and my administration. 

Leiand's Deritastkenes on flte Crown^ 

It will naturally occur ta every Judicious 
reader, that this series of questions ought to ris^ 
gradually in force as they proceed, and there^ 
fore it will be necessary to keep the voice under 
at the begitining5 to which this observation naaj 
be a<ided, that as the rising* inflexion ought ta^ 
be adapted on each question, the voice will be 
very apt to get too high near the end y. for which 
purpose it will be necessary to swell tbe voice 
a little below its highest. pitch; and if we can- 
not mer.with ease and clearness o» every parti- 
cular to the last, we ought to aiagment the/arci? 
€n each, that the wbole^ may form a species of 
climax. 



instructions for the Management of the Voice, 

As the voice naturally slides into a higher 
tone, when we want to speak louder^ but not so 
easily into a lower tone, when we would speak 
more softly; the first care of every reader and 
speaker ought to be to acquire a power of lower- 
ing the voice when it is got too high, E-'^peri-^ 



«4 RHETORICAL CRAMMAI^v 

cnce shows us, that we can raise our voice at p1c*» 
sure to any pitch it is capable of; but the samcf 
experience tells us, that it requires infinite arf 
and practice to bring the voice to a lower key 
when it is once raised too high. It ou^ht there-^ 
fore to be a first principle with all pubhc readers 
and speakers, rather to begin under the common 
level of their voice than above it- 

Every one, therefore, who would acquire a 
irariety of tone in public reading of speaking, 
must avoid, as the greatest evil, a loud and vo- 
ciferous beginning ; and for that purpose it would 
be prudent in a reader or speaker to adapt hi» 
voice as if only to be heard by the petson who is 
nearest to him : if his voice has natural strength^ 
and the subject any thin^ impassioned in it, a 
higher and louder tone will insensibly steal on 
him; and his greatest address must be directed 
to keeping it within bounds- For this purpose,^ 
it will be frequently necessary for him to recall 
his voice, as it were, from the extremities of his 
auditory, and direct it to those who are nearest 
to him. This it will be proper to do almost at 
the beginning of every paragraph in reading,, 
and at the introduction or every part of the sub- 
ject in discourse. Nothing will so powerfully 
work on the voice, as supposing ourselves con- 
versing at different intervals with different parts- 
of the auditory. 

If, in the course of reading,, the voice should 
slide into a higher tone, and this tone should 
too often recur, care must be taken to throw in 
a variety, by beginning subsequent sentences in 
a lower tone, and, if the subject will admit of it,^ 
in a monotone; for the monotone, it is pre- 
sumed, is the most efficacious means of bringing; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. SSS 

the voice from high to low, and of altering it 
when it has been too long in the same kejr* 
This may appear paradoxical to those who have 
not studied the subject; but if every sentence 
begins high and ends low, or inversely, though 
the sentences singly considered will have a va- 
riety, yet, if considered collectively, they will- 
have a sameness ; so, by copimencing sometimes 
with a monotone, though this monotone may 
have a sameness, yet, as associated with other 
tones, it will certainly augment the variety. 
Grand, solemn, awful subjects, admit best of the 
monotone : a beautiful example of this offers it- 
self in Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination, on 
the power of Novelty r 

What need words 
To paint its paw'r ? For. this the daring youth 
Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms. 
In foreign climes to rove : the pensive sage. 
Heedless of sleep or midnight's harmful damp. 
Hangs o'er the sickly taper ; and untir'd 
The virgin follows, with enchanted step. 
The masses of some wild and wondrous tafe. 
From mom to eve; unmindful of her form. 
Unmindful of the happy dress that stole 
The wishes of the youth, when every maid 
With envy pin'd. Hence finally by night. 
The village matron, round the blazing hearth. 
Suspends the infant-audience with her tales. 
Breathing astonishment ! of witching rhymes. 
And evil spirits ; . of the death-bed call 
To him w^ho robb'd the widow, and devoured 
The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls 
Ris'n from the grave to ease the heavy guilt 
Of deeds in life conceal'd ; of shapes that walk 
At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wav# 
The torch of hell around the murd'rer's bed. 
At ev'ry solemn pause the crowd recoil. 
Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd 
With shiv'ring sighs ; till, eager for th* event, '^ 

Around the beldame all erect they hang. 
Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. ^ 



156 KHETORIdAL •OtLAMMAlt. 

m 

In reading this passage the voice ougiif Id 
9ssume a lower tone, approaching to a moiKH 
tone, at the word Hence y and to continue thi& 
tone for about two lines, when the voice will 
gradually go into a little variety,|| and slide hita 
a somewhat higher tone ; it must again ^11 inta 
a lower tone, and be in a monotone at of shaped 
that walk at dead of night, &c^ and continue in 
this tone, with very little alteration, to. the end 
ef the sentence. The rest of the passage must 
preserve the lower tone, and be pronounced so 
as to be in some measure descriptive of thoser 
pleasing, anxious terrors, so finely painted by thef 
poet. 

If we are speaking extempore, and want tot 
lower the voice, we ought, it possible, to intro-' 
duce some passion that naturally assumes a 
lower tone, such as scorn, indignation^ &c. Let 
lis try to illustrate this by an example : 

Come, Anthony, and young Octavms, came 

Revenge yourselves alone on Casshis ; ■ 

Por Cassias is a-weary of the world ; 

Hated by the one he loves, braved by his^^rOthery 

CheckM by a bondsman, all \M faults observed. 

Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,. 

To ca$t into his teeth* Oh, I could weep 

My spirit from my eyes ! There is my dagger. 

And h^re my naked breast— 'wi thin, a heart 

Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 

If that tliou need'st a Roman's, take it forth ; 

I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart : 

Strike as thou didst at Caesar ; for- 1 know. 

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him bett^V 

Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. 

Shdkspeare'sjtdius Casar,,' . 

The beginning of this speech naturally carried 
the voice into a high tone, and, the same passion 
continuing, there is no opportunity of lowering 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. *jf 

tixe voice till the eighth line, when indignation 
at OA, / could weep my spirit from my eyes na-« 
turally throws the voice into a harsh, low tone, 
and gives it fresh force to pronounce the rest of 
the passage* 

ibileifor Gesture, 

It may not perhaps bd useless to bestow a feW 
observations on Gesture; This part of delivery, 
though confessedly of such importance amon 
the ancients, is that which is least cultivate 
aniong.the' moderns;, -The reason: of .this differ 
rence. is foreign to th?^ present purpose: let ifi 
suffice, that aukward oc improper igeisture is a- 
greater blemish in reading and. speaking thaa 
using noi;iie at aU> and tliat in this. ; part ^of wa- 
tory particularly we ou^t to be ixiore. careful 
t€> avoid ' faults than: to attain beatities* • * To de- 
scend, hoAvever, to a. few of those partitulars, 
to which it should seem we ought, chiefly tc^ 
attend—.: ^ ^ ^ 

It may first be observed, that in reading much 
fess action is required than in speiking. / When 
we.riead alone^ or to a few persons only in pri-» 
vatei, iwe should aecustom oiurselves to read 
^aadiag;: the book should be held in the left 
band ; we should take, our eyes as often as pos-» 
aible . from the book^. and direct them to those 
tiiat^heax us. The ihree or four last words at 
ka^t, of. every paragraph, or branch of a subject, 
d»uid'be pronounced with the eye pointed to 
QjOCiXxCthe auditorSi When any thing sublime, 
lofty, or heavenly, is expressed, the eye and the 
right hand may be very properly elevated; and 
when anjc thing low, inferior, or grovelling, is 
referred to^^ the eye and hand may be directed 



%58 JRHETQRICAL GRAMMAR. 

<)oWnwards: when any thing distant or exten- 
sive is mentioned, the hand may naturally de- 
scribe the distance or extent; and when con- 
scious, virtue^ or any l^eartfelt emotion or tender 
sentiment occurs, we may clap the hand on the 
treast exactly over the heart. 

In speaking extempore, we should be sparing 
of the use of the left hand, which, except in 
strong emotion, may hang easily down the side. 
The right hand ought to rise, extending from 
the side, that is, in a direction from left to right, 
till it is on a line with the hip ; and then to be 
propelled forwards, with the fingers open> and 
easily and differently curved: the arm ^ould 
iPDve ^hiefiy from tqe elbow^ the hand seldom 
he raised higher than the shoulder^ and*, when it 
]ka$ described its object, or enfovcied^ its em- 
phasisj ought to drop lifeless down^ to the side, 
ready to commence action afresh. The utmost 
care must be taken to keep the elbow from in- 
clining to the body, and to let the arms; when 
Qbt hanging tit rest by the side^ approach to the 
action we call a-^kimbow; we jpust be cautious 
too, in alWction but such^ as describe»^xtent or 
Circumferenxre, to keep the hand or lower part 
gf the arm froim cutting lUe perpendicular line 
that divides the body inttt' right and left; but; 
above aU,.we must be careful to let the stroke of 
the hand^ which marks forde t>r em[^^> keep 
qxact time with the force of prommciation ; thaik 
is, the band must go down upon the emphatical 
word^ and no other. Thus, in the execradon of 
Brutus,, in .Julius Caesar : < . 

When Marcus Brutus grows so* covetous. 
To locl^su^h rascal-counters fiipzn his friendsn^ \ i 
Be ready, gods, with ail your thunderbolts^ 
. Dash him la pieces. 



RttETORlCAL GRAMMAR. 259 

Here the action of the arm which enforces 
the emphasis ought to be so dircct^di that the 
stroke of the hand may be given exactly on the 
word dashi this will give a concomitant actipa 
to the organs of pronunciation, and by this 
means the whole expression will be greatly aug- 
liiented. TlTiis action may be called beating 
time to the emphasis, and is as necessary in for- 
cible and harmonious speaking as the agree** 
itient between the motion of the feet and the • 
mu«ic in dancings 

Hence we may see the propriety of a common - 
action in colloquiajl argumentation^, when we 
wish to enforce the particulars of any series^ 
which is, by striking the table, at the end of 
each particular, in order to impress it on the 
inind. This is the impulse of unpremeditated 
feeling, and may be truly called the action of 
nature ; and if we can but acquire a habit of ac- 
companying a premeciitated series with the same . 
action, we shall give it a force and beauty well 
worthy the attention of the speaker. 

But this emphatic stroke, as it may be called, 
must be used with judgment. The hand is to 
give it only to such members as require the 
falling inflexion of voice, as those which require 
the rising may be properly accompani^sd by ' 
raising the han^d. 

Thus, in Cicero's oration against Verres : ^ 

I^lanandjuitice dfyou!» fathers, upon the robber ofthe ptA" - 
lictjdasury, tiw oppressor of Asra Minor and Pampfa/lia, the ' 
invader oi' the righta and privileges of Romans, the scourge 
and curse of Sicily. . . 

Here the hand may very properly enforce 
the two first members with the downward 
stroke, but at the third it should risQ with the 

s2 



260 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 



rising inflexion, and fall with the falling iipaa 
the last. 

A question, therefore, requiring the rising in- 
flexion on each particular, must have each par- 
ticular accompanied by a raising of the hand, as 
in the following example. 

Woald an infinitely wise being siake such glorious beings 
for so n>fan a purpose? Can he delight in the production of 
silch abortive irrtellfgeTiCes, such short-lived reasonable be- 
ing* ? Would he give us talewts that are not to be ext^Fted, 
capacities that are no^ to be gratified ? Sped. N ^ 111. 

This elevation of the hand on each particular 
will certainly mark that suspense and degree of 
stirprise which afe inseparable from this species 
of question, as tfie downward stroke of the hand 
accompanying khe falling inflexion will give it 
double force and energy. 

If the student wishes to acquire an easy unaf- 
fected and regular style of action, he may con- 
sult Elements of Gesture, prefixed to The Jca- 
dtmk Speaker. 

' Thus has been attempted a regular course of 
instruction^ which, from the new points of view 
in which several of the parts have been placed, it 
i^ hoped will be found generally useful. Those 
Who wish to enter more fully into' this subject, and 
have leisure and inclination for philosophical re- ^ 
flkxion^ upon it^ may consult a work lately pub- ' 
\\^htdiyQ2iitiL Elements of Elocution; where the* 
nature of accent and emphasis, the variation and 
mpdulation of the voice, and the expression 6f 
the passions, emotions, and sentiments, are c^ , 
pioualy and systematically considered. 



C 261 ] 



COMPOSITION. 



JlN a Rhetorical Grammar, it may be justly ex- 
pecticcl that Composition, which forms so essenr 
*tial a part pf Rhetoric, should not be entirely 
omitted : yet so much has been written on this 
part of the art, and so ably has it been treated 
Iboth by the ancients and moderns, that I might 
welj excuse myself by referring my readers to 
Aristotle, Dionysius of Halic^rnassi^s, duiur 
tilian, and Cicero, among the former,— and to 
Blair, Campbell, and Priestley, p.mong the latter, 
—for every thing that learning, genius, and ex- 

ferience,have produced upon the subject. What ^ 
can offer must be little more than gleanings, ' 
after so popious a harvest; and if even these 
gleanings should be claimed as the property of 
those wnp have preceded me, I shall willingly 
forego my plaipi, and be coiitent to rank in this 
field as an humble compiler of a few scattered 
hints which have occurred to me in a long 
course of teaching a part of Rhetoric which 
has not been §q mwh If^bpured by my pre-- 
^ecessors, 

In the first place, we must lay it down as a 
piaxim of eternal truth, that good sense is the 
foundation of all good writing. Understand a. 
pybjqet w?ll^ and you can scarcely write ill upon 

$ 3 



262 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR* 

it. This, however, must be understood only of 
works of science; for works of imagination, be- 
sides a thorough acquaintace wjth the subject 
we write upon, require a quick discernment of 
the happiest manner of presenting a subject to 
the mind. This opens a wide field to the bowers 
of man, as it takes in all the beauties or poetry 
and eloquence,— beauties which^ though found- 
ed in nature and good sense, owe almost al^ 
their force to the imagination and address of the 
writer, 

' Rtietqric, or the Art of Persuasion, therefore^ 
aeems to demand a uniop of both these powers, 
(jrood sense must be enibellished with appro-*, 
priate language, vivid imagery, ^nd agreeable 
variety; and the imaginfition must be tempered 
by ^ood' taste, sound judgment, apd chaste ex-* 
^ression. lii short, the rhetorician shoul4 above 
ill things attend to the adyice of the poet: — 

, : ^ And iQark tliat poitit where sense. and dulneas meet. 

Pope's Ensai^ on Qritki^ 

The first thing to be attended to in all com-? 
position intended for deliyery is, when v^re have 
pxed upon a subject, to form a R'^^ pf treat- 
yA^ it. 

The parts wbich compose ^ regular o^f^tiom 
&re these six \ — ^he exordium, or introduction y 
the state and division pf ^he subject; tl^e narra- 
tion, or explication ; the reasoning, or argu- 
ments ^ the pathetic parts; and the conclusion. 
Jt is not necessary that these must enter into 
every public discourse, or that they must always 
be admitted in the order in which they are here 
set down. There are many excellent discourses 
\ti which soiT^e of these parts <^re altogetheij: 



RHETiMHCAL GRAMMAR. 



263 



omitted: but as- they are the natural and copr 
stituent parts of a regular oration, and as io 
every discourse, some of them must occur, it i$ 
agreeable to our present purpose to speak of 
each of them distinctly. 

The introduction should be easy and natural : 
it should always be suggested by the subject ^ 
nor should it be planned till after the writer has 
meditated in his own mind the substance of his 
discourse. In short, it should be like the pre# 
face to a book, which, though presenting it? 
self first, is generally written list ; for which 
reason I have seen a whimsical writer whtf 
placed it at the end instead of the beginning of 
his work. The introduction is seldom the place 
for vehemence or passion : the audience must 
be gradually prepared, before^ the speaker can 
venture on strong impassioned sentiments. A 
becoming modesty, therefore, is almost essen- 
tial to the composition as well as the delivery of 
this part of an oration. 

In dividing a subject, we mu$t be always 
carefi^l to follow the order of nature, beginning 
with the most simple points, such as are most 
easily undetstood and necessary to be first dis** 
cussed, and proceeding thence to those whicb 
are built upon the former, and which suppose 
them to be known. In short, the subject should 
be divided into those parts which grow out of 
each pther, and into which they are most na« 
turally and easily dissolved. 

The Narration or Explication is that part of 
an oratiopi which gives the true state of the. 
question, unfolds every particular which be-: 
iongs to it, and prepares the minds of the hearers 
to attend to the arguments which are to be |)rQ- 



M4 RHETORICAL CSRAMMAK. 

duced in favour of the side we adopt. Tfcis 
part of the oration should be simple^ nervous, 
and ' comprehensive, and the language plain, 
precise^ and without oroiamept. 

The Argumentative part of the oration must be 
considered as the strong bulwark of the rheto- 
rical fortification. The greatest care must be 
taken to select such arguments as ^e the best 
calculated to prove that what we advance is 
either true, • right, or fit, or that it is profitable 
and good. Truth, duty, and interest, are the 
three great subjects of discussion among man- 
kind. iBut 'the arguments employed upon eithef 
of them are generally distinct} and he whcj 
mixes them all under one topic, which he calls 
his argument, as is too frequently done in ser- 
mons, will ren'der his reasoning indistinct and 
inelegant, - 

With respect to the different degrees of 
strength in ^r^dients, the common as well as 
the most natural rule is to advance in the way 
6f climax.' Nor can' I agree with Dr. Blair, or 
any other rhetorician, that any state of the 
question will authorise ^n orator to begin with 
his strongest argument, and end with his 
weakest, ^fhe last impression is generally what 
decides in popular addresses, a^d this should 
be nicely attended to.' Besides, when once a 
point is proved, the multiplying of arguments; 
pnly tends to \veaken it ; for i^ cfught to be pb-^ 
served, that a number of weak arguments sel- 
ciom convince the miiid so much as pne strong 
one; and, therefore, that we pughtto be cautious 
Jiow we lay too great stress on' little things, as 
scarcely any thing so much implies a weafedesSr 
pf i^nderstanding. A great number* df we^^ 



i 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 25* 

ireasons ought therefore to be carefully avoided, 
lest we fall into the fault ridiculed by Pope in 
nis Dunciad :-r— - * 

e 

{Explain \ipon ^, thing till all men doubt it. 
And write about it Goddess and about it. 

When argument and reasoning have produce4 
their full effect, then, and not till then, )the pa-» 
thetic is admitted with the greatest force and 
propriety. When the subject will admit of t|ie 
pathetic (for all subjects do not), a speaker 
«hould cautiously avoid giving his hearers warn- 
ing that he intends to excite their passions: 
every previous preparation of this kind chilly 
their sensibility. The orator should steal im- 
perceptibly upon the feelings of his hearers, 
and ehgage their passions before they perceive 
he is aadriessing them. 

To succeed in the pathetic, it is necessary to 
attend to the proper language of the passions. 
This, if we cpnsult nature, we shall ever find is 
unaffected and simple. It may be animated 
with bold and stj;cing figures, but it will have no 
ornament or fir^pry. There is a material diffe- 
rence between paintinff to the imagination ^nd 
to the heart. The one mav be done with deli- 
berationand coolness ; the other must always b^ 
rapid and ardent. In the former, art and labour 
may be suffered to appear 5 in the latter, no pro* 
per effect can be produced unless it seem to be 
the work of naturie only. Hence al| digressions 
should bfe avoided which may interrupt or turn 
aside the swell of passion. Hence comparisons' 
are always dangerous^ and commonly quite im- 
proper in the niidst of the pathetic, it is also 
to be observed, that emotions which are violent 



./ 



/ 



SM RHETORICAL GRAMMA!^. ^ 

canoot be lasting. The pathetic, therefore^ 
should not be prolonged and extended too 
much, A due regard should always be preserved 
to what the audience will bear ; for he that at« 
tempts to carry them farther in passion than 
they w411 follow him annihilates nis purpose; 
by endeavouring to warm them in the extreme, 
he takes the surest method of completely free^t-^ 
ing them. 

, Tor the expression of these passions by pro* 
ijungjation or delivery, the student must be re- 
ferred to a work entitled Elements of Elocutionj 
where it is hoped he will find a clearer descrip^ 
tipn of the operation of the passions^ on the at<« 
titude, countenance, g^sti^re, and tone of voice, 
whether in reading or speaking, than is to be 
met with in any other work on tne subject. Be- 
sides, what ha? n^ver before been attempted, he 
will there find a mechanical process of exciting 
the passions in the speaker, so necessary to his 
communicating thepi to his hearer, acgordittg tQ' 
the rule of Horace : 



Si VIS me Acre, 



Dolendum est primum ipse tibi. 

Concerning the peroration, or conclusion of a 
discourse, a few words will be suflicient. Some-i 
times the whole pathetic part comes in roost 
prxjperly at the conclusion. Sometimes* when* 
the discourse has been altogether argumenta-^ 
tive, it, is proper to conclude with sumifoing up 
the arguments, placing them in ouQ point of 
view, and leaving the impression of tlWm fuU 
and strong on the minds ot the hearers. For the 
principal rule of a conclusion, and what nature 
obviously suggests^ is Xo pla<;e that last (fJX 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 26T 

which we choose that the strength of our cause 
should rest^ 

In ever)r kin4 of public speaking it is iinpor-» 
Jant to hit the precis^ time of coqcluding, 
so as to hring thp discourse just to a point; nei^ 
thfer ending abruptly and ^nexpectediy* ^ox dis* 
appointing the expectation of the hearersj, when 
they look for the discourse being finished. ^ The 
close should always be concluded with dignity 
and spirit, that the minds of the hearers4uay be 
left warm^ and that they may depart with a fa^ 
Yourable impression of the subject and of the 
speaker. 

Having thus adjusted and prepared theseve^ 
ral parts of a subject, the next object is the 
ptyle in which we are to convey it to others. 
This has been so elaborately and accurately 
treated hy Dr, Blair, that I dial! take the same 
liberty which others have dorie, of extracting 
some of his thoughts on this subject, and refer 
the student iii rhetoric to the Doctor's excel- 
lent lectures^ for a .more complete view of 
whatever is necessary to be known, 

, ■ 

^ , ^(yfe — Perspicuity and Precision. 

StYlb is the peculiar manner in which a 
pian es^pre^ses his conceptions by means of lan^ 
guage. |t is a picture of the ideas which rise 
\xx his min4j an4 ftf the order in which they are 
prpdijced. 

The qualities of a good style may be raAked 
under two heads — perspicuity and ornament* 
Xt will readily be admitted, that perspicuity 
ought to be essentially, connected with every 
J^ifld of writing. Without this the brightest of-* 



S6S RHETORlCAt GRAMMAR. 

naments of style only glimmer through the darfc; 
and perplex, instead of pleasing the reader. If 
we are forced to follow a writer with inuch 
care, to pause, s^jid to read over his sentences a 
second time, in prder to understand them fajly^ 
he will never please v^s Ipng. Mankind are too 
indolent tp be fond of so much labour. Though 
they may pretend to admire the author*s depth, 
after having discovered his; defining, they will 
seldom be inclined to look ^ second time into 
his book. 

The study of perspicuity claims attention, 
first, to single words and phrases, and then to 
the construction of sentences. When considered 
whh respect to words and phrases, it requires 
these three qualities— ^p^nVj/, propriety^ ancl 
precision. 

Purity and propriety of language are often 
used indiscrimmately fp'r'each other; and, in- 
deed, they are very nearly allied. A distinction^ 
however, should be made between them. Purity 
consists in the use of such words and such con- 
structions as belong to the idiom of the language 
which we speak, in opposition to those wprd^ 
and phrases which are impqrted from other lan-t 
guages, or which are obsolete, qr new coinpdj^ 
or employed without proper authority. Propriety 
is the choice of such words as the best and' most 
established usa<je has appropriated to those idea^ 
which we intend to express by them : it implies 
their correct and judicious application, in oppo-i 
sitioii to vulgar or low expressions, and to word* 
and phrases which would be less significant of 
the ideas that we intend to convey. Style may 
be pure, that is, it may be entirely Engli^^ 
without Scotticisms or 0*illicisms, or ungrgin^ 



HHETORICAL GRAMMi^. 9#| 

tn&tiGai Expressions of any kin4> and n^ay^ i^t*^ 
^ylthstanding^ be deficient in projiriety. The^ 
words may be ill selected ^ not adapted to the. 
subject, nor fiiUy expressive of the author's 
riieaning. He has taken thera^ indeed, from 
the general mass pf English language; but his 
choice has been made ^^without happiness or; 
skilL Style, however, cannot be^prpper wfthquls 
being pure : it is the union ^qf purity and pro- 
priety which renders it graceful and pergj)|icuous#' 

The exact meaning of precision rpay be un- 
derstood from the etymology of the w0r4* . It 
is derived from. '^ pnecidercy* to cut off; it sig-j 
nifies retrenching. all superfluities, and pruning- 
the expressiofi in such a, nianner as to exhibit 
neither mofe nor less than an exact cppy ot, 
his idea wTio uses it. 

The words whic)i ^re employed to^iexpress' 
ideas may be faulty in three j-espects.. They 
may either not express that idea which the au- 
thor means, but- some other >vhich ooxly resem-. 
bles or is related to it ; or ,they may express 
that idea, but not fully and conipletely ; or they ; 
n^ay express it, together with something more 
than he designs. Precision is opposfed to these, 
three faults, biit. particularly to the last; inta 
this feeble writers are very. apt to fall. They 
employ a multitude of words to make themselves^ - 
understood, as they think, more distinctly ; and. 
they only confound the re.adpt . The iaiage, as 
they place it before you, is always $een double^ 
and no double image is distinct. When an au^^ 
thor tellsf.us of his hero's amrag€ in theday^Qf 
battle, the expression is precise,. and w^ undgrrr^ 
stand it fullv. Biit if, fr9ni(^^ desire of IhultipJJJR^^ 
iilg words, ne will prai|e ^^ couragejxK^rj^i^ 



tkd&, ftt ttie tnomen* he joins these Words fdg-e- 
thef our idea begins to waver. Ht intends to 
express one quality more strongly; but he is> in 
fcct> expressing two. Courage resists danger; 
fortihiie supports pain* The accasion of exer* 
ting each of these qualities is different; and be* 
ing induced to^ think of bdtli together, when 
«tt!y one of thtm should engage our kttention^ 
cmt view is rendered unsteady, and our concep- 
tiori'of the object indistinct. 

The great source 6f aloose sty'le, in oppositioa 
to^precision, is thfe Jnaccurate and Unhappy use 
o^ those words called synonymous. Scarcely, in 
any language, are there two wotds which ex- 
press precisely the same idea 3 and !a person per- 
Pectly acquainted *with'ihe propriety of the lan- 
guage will always be able to observe sbmething 
by whtch they are distinguished'. In our lan^ 
guage, very mariy instances might be given of 
a* difference in meaning, among Words wnich are 
thought to be synonymous ; and as the subject 
is of importancfe, we . shall point out a few of 
them. 

Surprised, astonished, amazed^ cmfbunded. We 
at^ surprised with What is new of unexpected; 
we are astonished at What is vast 6r great; we 
are amazed with what we cannot comprehend ; 
we are confounded' by what is shocking or 
terrible. 

Pride, tanity. Pride makes us esteem our- 
selves; vanity makes us desire the esteem of 
otJters. 

'Haughtiness, disdain. Haughtiness is founded 
on' Ae high opitiioti we have of ourselves ; dis- 
dalh on the low opinion we entertain of others, 
^Pi^^tary, tafat^ue. Tlie continuance of the 



RHETORICAL MaMMaR/ Ht 

same thing wearies us; labour fatigues- us. A' 
man is weafy with standings he is fatigued with 

walking. 

To abhor, to detest. To abhoi^, imports, siulply, 
strong dislike; to detest^ imports likewise strong 
disapprobation. I abhor being itt debt j I detest 
treachery. « 

To invent, to dif cover. We invent things which* 
are new; we discove'r' ^hat has been hidden/ 
Galilaeo invented the telestope ; Harvey discover- . 
ed the circulation of the blood. 

Entire^ complete. A thing is entire, when it- 
wants none of its parts; complete, ^hfen it^ 
wants none of the appendages which belong to 
it. A man ixiay occupy an entire houfee/ though' 
he has not one complete apartments ■ 

Tranquillity, peace, calm. Tranquility sigtii- * 
fies a situation free from trouble, con«idered in* 
itself: peace, the same situation, with respect to 
any causes which might interrupt it ; calm, with 
respect to a disturbed ^situation going before, or • 
following it; A good^'man enjoys- tranquillity 
in himself; peace with others ; and calm after- 
the stotm. : *^ 

Enough, ^/^aVw/. Enough relates to ihe quan-- 
tity which we wish to4iave of any thing. Suffi- 
cient rdiates to the use that is to be Aiadfe-of it. • 
Hence, enough contmofifysignififeS' a greater' 
quantity than suffi^ieht" does. The covetous 
man uev^er has enough, though he 'has what is 
sufficient for nature. ^ - 

These are a few, among many, instances of 
words in our limguag^, whith, by careless wri*- 
ters, are apt to be niistaken- for synonymous. • 
The more the distinctionan the meaning, of 5uch 
word^ i^ weighed «iid attended to, the more* 



mn ftHETORlCAt GRAMMAR^ 

accurately and forcibly shall we speak an4 
Write. f 

Structurt of Sentencdi. 

PROPER construction of sentences is of 
Such importance in every species of composi- 
tion> Ihat we canndt be too strict or minute in 
our attention to it. For^ whatever be the sub- 
ject, if the sentences be constructed in a clumsy, 
perplexed, or feeble manner, it is impossible that 
a \york composed of such periods can be read 
Ipvith ple^surci or even with profits But, by an 
attention^ to the rules y^hicn relate to. this part 
of style> we acquire th^ habit of expressing our- 
ielVes with perspic.iHty arid elegance 3 and if a 
disorder happen to ar^se in some of our sen- 
tences, we immediately discover where it lies,* 
and are able to correct it. 

The properties most essential to a perfect sen- . 
tence seem to be thefowr f(>lk)wii^: — 1. Clear- 
ness and precision ^ 2. IJnity; 3. Strength I 4. 
Harmony* , : . 

Ambiguity is opposed to clearness and pre-*, 
cision, and arises firqm two causes; either from 
a wrong choice of WordSiiOr ;& Wrong c^Iqc^tiorl * 
of them. , Of the choieis of words,; ^s fapr as re- 
gards perspicuity, we h^ye ^already spoken* Of 
the co-location of then^ we are novr to treat* 
Frojn the nature of our language, a leading rule 
in the arrangement of our senteijices is, that the 
v^ords or members most nearly related should 
be placed in the sentence as near to each other 
as possible, so as to make their mutual relation 
clearly- appear. This rule is too frequently neg- 
ected, even by^ood writers. ^ A fe\y, instances 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. ITS 

will diow both its importance and its applica* 
tion. 

In the position of adverbs, which are used to 
qualify the signification of something which 
either precedes or follows them, a good deal of 
nicety is to be observed. ** By greatness/* say« 
Mr. Addison, " I do not only mean the bulk of 
*yany single object, but the largeness of a whole 
*^ view." Here the situation of the adverb onljf 
renders it a limitation of the following word> 
mean. " I do not only mean.'*— The question 
may then be asked, what, does he more than 
mean? Had it been placed after bulky still it 
would have been improperly situated ; for it 
might then be asked. What is meant besides the 
bmkf Is it the colour, or any other property? 
Its proper place is, certainly, after the word ob- 
ject: " By greatness I do not mean the bulk of 
^* any single object only;" for then, when it is 
asked. What does he mean more than the bulk 
of a single object ? the answer comes out pre- 
cisely as the author intends, "^ the largeness of 
*^ a whole view." " Theism," says Lord 
Shaftesbury, " can only be opposed to poly- 
** theism, or atheism." It may be asked then. Is 
theism capable of nothing else, except being op- 
posed to polytheism or atheism ? This is what 
the words literally mean, through the improper 
collocation of only. He ought to have said. 
Theism can be opposed only to polytheism, 
or atheism.** These kind of inaccuracies may 
have no material inconvenience in conversation, 
because the tone and emphasis used in pronoun- ' 
cing them generally serve to show their reference, 
and to make the meaning perspicuous: but in 
writings where a person speaks to tbeeye, aad 






t 






rt^ RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

not to the. ear, he ought to be more accurate 5 
and should so connect those adverbs with the 
words which they qualify, that his meaning 
cannot be mistaken on the first inspection. 

When a circumstance is interposed in the 
middle of a sentence, it sometimes requires art 
to place it in such a manner as to divest it of all 
ambiguity. For instance, " Are these desi^s," 
says Lord Bolingbioke, Dissert, on Parties, Ded. 
" which any man, who is born a Briton, in any 
•* circumstances, in any situation, ought to 
"be ashamed or afraid to. avow?" Here we 
are in doubt, whether words, ** in any circum- 
stances, m any situation,^ are connected with 
a man born in Britain, in any circumstances or 
*' situation," or with that man'^ ** avowing his 
" designs, in any circumstances, or situation, 
** into which he may be brought?" If the 
latter, as seems most likely, was intended to be 
the meaning, the arrangement ought to have 
been in this form : " Are these designs, which 
** any man who is born a Briton ought to be 
•'ashamed or afraid, in any circumstances, in 
*' any situation, to avow ?" , 

Still more attentive care is requisite to Vhe 
proper disposition of the relative pronouns, tvho^x 
zvftkk, whafy whose; and of all those particles 
which express the connection of the parts of 
speech with one another. Since all reasoning 
depends upon this connection, we cannot be too 
accurate with regard to it. A trifling error mtty 
obscure the meaning of the whole sentence; 
and even where the meaning is apparent, yet 
vyherc these relati\e particles are misplaced, we 
always find something awkward, and disjointed 
h^ the structure of the period. The fo&)wing, 









RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 275 

passage in Bishop Sherlock's Sermons (vol. 2. 
serm. 15) will exemplify these observations; 
It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against 
the accidents of life, by heaping up treasures, 
** which nothing can protect us against, but the 
** good providence of our Heavenly Father, 
Which al^yays refers grammatically to the im* 
mediately preceding substantive, which here is, 
" treasures," and this would convert the whole 
period into nonsense. The sentence should have 
been thus constructed: "It is folly to pretend, by 
heaping up treasures^ to arm ourselves against 
the accidents of life, which nothing can pro- 
tect us against but the good providence of our. 
Heavenly Father." 
We now proceed to the second quality of a 
well-arranged sentence, which w;e termed its 
Unity. This is an indispensable property. The 
very nature of a sentence implies one propo- 
sition to be expressed. It may consist, indeed, of 
parts; but these parts must be. so intimately 
knit together, as to make the impression upon 
the mind of one object, not of many. 

To preserve this unity, we must first observe, 
that, during the course of the sentence, the scene 
should be changed as little as possible. There is 
generally, in every sentence, some person or 
thing, which is the governing word. This 
should be continued so, if possible, from the be- 
ginning to the end of it. ohould a man express 
himself in this manner: " After we came to^ 
^* anchor, they put me on shore, where I was 
*' saluted by all my friends, who received me 
" with the greatest kindness." Here, though the 
objects are sufficiently connected, yet by this 
piode of representation, by shifting so often the 

T 2 






276 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

place ahd thfe f>tfrson, tve^ and tkei/y and /, and 
tiuhoy they apptear in such a disimited view, that 
the sense of connection is nearly lost. Thie sen- 
tence is restored to its proper unity, by cont 
structing it after the following manner: ** Hav- 
*^ ihg come to an anchor, I was put on shore,' 
where I was saluted by all my friends, who 
received me with the greatest kindness.'* 
Another rule is, never to crowd into one sen- 
tence things which have so little connection 
that they might bear to be divided into two or 
more sentences. Tlie transgression of this rule 
never fails to hurt and displease a reader. Its 
effect, indeed^ is so disgusting, that, of the two, 
it is the safest extreme, to err rather by too many ^ 
short sentences, than by one thsft is overloaded 
and confused. The following sentence, from a 
translation of Plutarch, will justify this opinion : 
•^ Their march,'* says the author, speaking of 
the Greeks under Alexander, " was through an 
^* uncultivated country, whose savage inhabi- 
** tants fared hardly, having no other riches 
** than a breed of lean sheep, whose flesh was 
•^ rank and unsavoury, by reason of their conti- 
** nual feeding upon sea-fish." Here the scene 
is repeatedly changed. The march of the Qreeks, 
the description of the inhabitants through whose 
couhtry they passed, the account of their sheep, 
and the reason of their sheep being disagreeable 
food,' make a jumble of objects, slightly related 
to each other, which the reader cannot, with- 
out considerable difficulty, comprehend under 
6ne view. 

Another rule*' for preserving the unity of sen- 
tences is, to kieepclear'of all parentheses in'jthe 
middle of them. These-may, on some occasSctoSi 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 277 

have 4 spirited appear^nc^, as prompted by a 
certain vivacity of thought, which gaix glance 
happily aside, as it is going along. But, in ge- 
neral, their effect is extremely bad ; being a per- 
plexed method of disposing of some thought, 
)yhich a writer has not art enough to introduce 
in its proper place. It is needless to .pfodvice any 
instances, since they occur so frequently among 
incorrect writers. 

We shall add only one rule more for the unitjf 
of a sentence; which is, to bring it always to a 
full and perfect close. It need hardly be ob- 
served, that an unfinished ^en^tence is no sen^ 
tence at all, with respect to any of the rules qf 
grammar. Rut sentences often occur, which ar^ 
more than finished. When we have arrived at 
what we expected to be the cp^iclusion j whea 
we have come to the word, on which the min<J 
is naturally led tp rest, by what went before^ 
unexpectedly some circumstance arises, whic|^ 
ought to have been left out, or to have be^^ 
disposed of after another manner. Thus, for ipr 
stance, in the folloviring sentence, from Sir 
William Temple, the adjection to the sentenpe 
is entirely foreign to it. Speaking of Burnetts 
Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality 
of Worlds: " The first/* says he, "could not 
*^ end his learned treatise without a panegyric 
** of modern learning, in comparison of the an|- 
" cient; and th^ other falls so grossly into the 
" censure of the old poetry, and preference qf 
*^ the new, that I could not read either of the?p 
** fitfeins without some indignation ; which no 
quality among men is so ^pt to raise in me as 
self sufficiency." The word " indignation" 
ought to have concjuded th« sentence ^ for wh%t 

T 3 






278 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

follows is altogether new, and is added after the 
proper close. 

Structure of Sentences. 

We proceed now to the third quality of a 
correct sentence, which we called strength. By 
this is meant, such a disposition of the several 
words and oiembers as shall exhibit the sense to 
the best advantage; as shall render the impres- 
sion which the period is intended to make most 
full and complete; and give everjr word and 
.every member its due weight and importance. 
To the production of this effect, perspicuity and 
unity are, no doubt, absolutely necessary ; but 
they are not of themselves sufficient. For a sen- 
tence may be obviously clear; it may also be 
sufficiently compact, or have the required unity; 
and yet, by some unfavourable circumstance in 
the structure, it may be deficient in that strength 
or liveliness of impression which a more happy 
collocation would have produced. 

The first rule that we shall give for promo- 
ting the strength of a sentence, is, to take from 
it all redundant words. Whatever can be easily 
supplied in the mind is better omitted in the 
expression : thus, " Content with deserving a 
" triumph, he refused the honour of it,** is 
better than to say, " Being content with de- 
** serving a triumph, he refused the honour of 
it." It is certainly, therefore, one of the mo§t 
useful exercises of correction, on a view of what 
we have written or composed, to contrac^feat 
round-about mode of expression, and to cut off 
those useless excrescences which are usually 
found in a first draught, But we must be careful 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. S1» 

not to run into the opposite extreme, of pruning 
so closely as^ to give a hardness and dryness to 
the style. Some leaves must be left to shelter and 
adorn the fruit. 

As sentences should be divested of superfluous 
livords, so also they should appear without super- 
fluous members. In opposition to this, is the 
fault we so frequently meet with, of the last 
tnember of a period being no other than the re- 
petition of the former, in a different dress. For 
example; speaking of beauty, ^ The very first 
discovery of it," says Mr. Addison, " strikes 
the mind with inward joyi and ispreads delight 
through all its faculties." In this instance, 
scarcely any thing is added by the second mem- 
ber of the sentence to what was already expressed 
in* the first: and though the elegant style of 
Mr. Addison may palliate such negligence, yet 
it is generally true, that language, divested of 
tjils prolixity, becomes more strong, as well as 
more beautiful, 

• The second direction we liliall give for pro* 
moting the strength of a sentence is, to pay si 
particular attention to the use of copulatives, re- 
latives, and all the particles employed for transi- 
tion and connection. Some obcervations on this 
subject, which appear to be worthy of particular 
remembrance, shall here he noticed. 

What is termed splitting of particles, or sepa- 
rating a preposition from the noun which it go- 
verns, is ever to be avoided : as if we should 
say, " Though virtue borrows no assistance 
** from, yet it may often be accompanied by, 
•* the advantages of fortune:** In such instances, 
a degree of dissatisfaction ^rises^, from the violent 

X 4 



SM RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

separation of two things, which, from their na- 
ture, ought to be intimately united. 

The simplicity of style is much injured by the 
unnecessary multiplication of relative and de- 
monstrative particles : Thus If a writer should 
say, '^ There is nothing which disgusts me 
*'* sooner than the empty pomp of language ;'* 
he would express himself less simply than u he 
had said, ** Nothing disgusts me sooner than the 
<' empty pomp of language." The former mode 
of expression, in the mtroduction of a subject, 
or in laying down a proposition to which parti- 
cular attention is demanded, is exceedingly 
proper; but, in the ordinary current of dxs* 
course, the latter is to be preferred. 

With regard to the omission or insertion of ] 

the relative, we shall only observe, that in con- 
Yersation and epistolary writing, it may be often 
omitted with propriety ; but in compositions of 
a serious or dignified kind it should constantly 
be inserted. 

. On the copulative particle andy which occurs 
^ often in an kinds of composition, several ob^ 
servations are to be made. It is evident that the 
unnecessary repetition o( it enfeebles style. By 
pmittin^ it entirely we often mark a closer 
connection, a quicker succession of objects than 
when it is inserted between them, " V0ii^vidi^ 
1* vicii'^^^ I came, I saw, I conquered >'* C3{- 
presses with more spirit the rapidity of conquest^ 
than if connecting particles had been used. 
When, however, we desire to prevent a quick 
transition from one object to another, and when 
we are enumerating objects which we wish KOf 

Appear, as distinct from each other as possible* 






RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. n% 

copulatives may be multiplied with peculiar ad^ 
vantage. Thus Lord Bolingbroke says, with 
elegance and propriety, " Such a man might fall 
•^ a victim to power ; but truth, and reason, 
*^ and liberty, would fall with him.'* 

A third rule for promoting the strength of a 
sentence Is, to dispose of the principal word, of 
words, in that place of the sentence where they 
will make the most striking impression. Perspi- 
t:uity ought first to be studied ; and the naturq 
of our language allows no extensive libefrty in 
the choice of collocation. In general, the im- 
portant words are placed in the beginning of the 
sentence. Thus Mr. Addison : " f he pleasures 
*^ of the. imagination, taken in their full extent, 
** are not so gross as those of sense, nor so re*- 
^^ fined as those of the understanding/' This 
order seems to be the most plain and natural. 
Sometimes, however, when we proposp giving 
weight to a sentence, it is proper to suspend the 
meaning for a while, and then to bring it out 
full at the close:* " Thus," says Mr. Pope, 
** on whatever side we contemplate Homer, 
** what principally strikes us is his woa^erfui 
** invention," 

« 

A fourth rule for the strength of sentences i$> 
to make the members of them go on rising ia 
their importance above one another. This kind 
of arrangement is called a climax, and is ever 
regarded as a beauty in composition. Why it 
pleases is sufficiently evident. In all things, we 
naturally love to advance to what is more and 
more beautiful, rather than to follow the retro: 
grade order. Having viewed some considerable 
Object| we caonot^ without pain^ be pulled bac)^ 



S8d RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

to attend to an inferior circumstance.. ** Cceoen* 
^ dum est,** says Quintilian, ** ne decres^caf ora- 
^ tioy el fortiori subjungatttr aliquid infirmius.** 
^^ We must take care that our composition shall 
** not fall off, and that a weaker expression shall 
•* not follow one of greater strength." When a 
sentence consists, of two members, the longest 
sliould, in general, be the concluding one. 
Hence the pronunciation is rendered more ea^ ; 
and the shortest member of the period being 
placed first, we carry it more readily in our me- 
mory as we proceed to the second, and see the 
connection of the two more clearly. Thus, to 
8ay, ** When our passions have forsaken us, we 
•• flatter ourselves with the belief that we have 
"forsaken them," is both more graceful and 
niore perspicuous than to begin with the longest 
part of the proposition: " We -flatter ourselves 
*^ with the belief, that we have forsaken our 
•^ passions, when they have forsaken us." 

A fifth rule for constructing sentences with 
proper strength, is to avoid concluding them 
with an adverb, a preposition, or any insignifi- 
cant word. By such conclusions style is always 
weakened and degraded. Sometimes, indeed, 
where the stress and significancy rest chiefly upon 
words of this kind, they may, with propriety, 
have the principal place allotted them. No 
fault, for example, can be found with this sen- 
tence of Bolingbroke : " In their prosperity, 
" my friends shall never hear of me; in their 
•* adversity, always ;" where never and always^ 
being emphatical words, are so placed, as to 
make a strong impression. But^when those infe- 
rior parts of speech are introduced as circum* 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 9t3 

Stances, or as qualifications of more importan t 
words, they should invariably be disposed of in 
the least conspicuous parts of the period. 

We should always avoid with care the con- 
cluding with any of those particles which distin- 
fuish the cases of nouns — of, to^froniy with, by. 
lius it is much better to say, " Avarice is a 
** crime of which wise men are often guilty,** 
than to say, "Avarice is a crime which wise 
♦* men are often guilty of,*' This kind of 
phraseology all correct writers endeavour sedu- 
lously to avoid. 

. Verbs used in a compound sense, with some 
of these prepositions, are likewise ungraceful 
conclusions of a period ; such as, bring about^ 
lay hold of\ come over to, clear up, and- many 
others of the ^ame kind ; instead of which, if a 
simple verb can be employed, the sentence is al- 
ways terminated with more strength. Even the- 
pronoun it, especially when joined with some of 
the prepositions, as, xoith it, in it, to it, cannot, 
without a violation of grace, be the conchision 
of a sentence. Any pnrase which expresses a 
circumstance only, cannot conclude a sentence 
without great imperfection and inelegance. 
Circumstances are, indeed, like unshapely stones 
in a building, which try the skill ot an artist, 
where to place them With the least offence; We 
should carefully avoid crowding too many of 
them together, but rather intersperse them in 
different parts of the sentence, joined with the 
principal words on which they depend. Tfau&» 
for instance, when Dean Swift says, ** What I 
** had the honour of mentioning to your lord- 
** ship, sometime ago, in conversation, was not 
f^^ n^w thought -^(Letter to the Earl of 



*, 



294 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR^ 

Oxford). These two circumstances, ,r(?«^tiw 
agOy and in conversation^ which are heie joiE^d, 
would have been better separa,ted tbusi: " WbaA 
** I had the honour, sometime ago, of mention- 
" ing to your lordship in conversation/' 

The last rule. which we $haU mention con-^ 
cerning the strength of a sentence i& that in the 
members of it, where two things are CQin|>ared 
or contrasted to one another, where either a re-» 
semblance or an opposition is designed to be ex- 
pressed, some resemblance in the language and 
construction ought to be observed. Tne loUow* 
ing passage, from Pope's preface to his Homer, 
beautifully exemplifies the rule we aye now giv-^ 
jng. " Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil 
** the better artist: in the one, we admire the 
** mail; in the other, the work. Homer hurries 
** us. with a commanding impetuosity; Virgil 
•* leads us with an attractive majesty. Homer 
♦• scatters with a generous profusioJi; Virgil 
•* bestows with a careless maffnificence. Homer, 
*• like the Nile, pours out his riches with a 
** sudden overflow; Virgil, like a river in Its 
** banks, with a constant stream. And when we 
** look upon their machines. Homer seems like 
^* his own Jupiter in his terrors, shaking 
Olympus, scattering the lightnings, and 
firing 'the heavens. Virgil, like the same 
«* power, in his benevolence, counselling with 
** the Gods, laying plans for empires, and or- 
*t dering his whole creation.'* Periods, of this 
kind, when introduced with propriety, and not 
too frequently repeated^ have a sensible and at- 
tractive beauty : but if such a construction be 
aimed at in all our sentences, it betrays into a 
disagreeable uniformity., and prpduires a regular 



ff< 



RiifeTORICAL GRAMMAR. 285 

j!n^le in the period, which tires the car, and 
plainly discovers affectation. 

Structtire of Sentences. 

ffarmoHy. 

Having treated of sentences, with regard to 
thefa" meaning, under the heads of Perspicuity, 
Unity, and Strength, we will now consider 
them with respect to their sound, their harmo* 
ny, or agreeableness to the ear. 

lu tljie harmony of periods, two things are te 
be considered: First, agreeable sound, or modu- 
lation in general, without any particular ex- 
pression: Next, the sound so ordered, as to be- 
come expressive of the sense. The first is the 
more common ; the second the superior beauty. 

The bjeatrty of musical construction, it is evi- 
dent, will depend upon the choice of words, 
and the arrangement of them. Tliose words are 
most pleasing to the ear which are composed of 
smooth and liquid sounds, where there is a propter 
intermixture of vowels and consonants, without 
too many harsh consonants rubbing against eadh 
other, or too many open vowels in succession, 
to produce a hiatus, or unpleasing aperture df 
ihe mouth. Long words are generally more 
pleasing to the ear than monosyllables; and 
those are the most musical which are not^vholly 
composed, of long or short syllables, but of an 
intermixture of them ; such as, delight, amuses 
velocity J celerity , beautiful, tmpetuosify. If the 
ivords, however, which compose a sentence, be 
ever so well chosen and harmonious, yet, if 
they be unskilfully arranged, its music is entir^y 



C€ 
€€ 



£86 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

lost. As an instance of a musical sentence^ we 
may take the following from Milton, in his 
Treatise on Education. " We shall conduct you 
•* to a hill-side, laborious, indeed, at the first 
ascent ; but else so smooth, so green, so full 
of goodly prospects and melodious sounds on 
every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not 
more charming." Every thing in this sen- 
tence conspires to render it harmonious. The 
words are well chosen j laborious, smoothj green, 
goodly, melodious, chaiviings and besides, they 
are so happily arranged j that no alteration could 
be made, without injuring the melody. 

There are two things on which the music pf 
a sentence principally depends : these are, the 
proper distribution or the several members of it, 
and the close or cadence of the whole. 

Firsts we observe, that the distribution of the 
several members should be carefully attended to. 
Whatever is easy and pleasing to the organs of 
speech always sounds gratei^ul to the ear. VThile 
a period is going on, the termuXaiion of each of 
its members forms a pause in the pronunciation ; 
and these pauses ;>houId be so distributed as to 
bear a certain musical proportion tci each other. 
This will be best illustrated by ex/mples. The 
followiag passage is taken frorh, Archbishop 
Tillotson. " This discourse, concerning the 
" easiness of God's commands, does, all along, 
'* suppose and acknowledge the difficulties ^of 
the first . entrance upon a religious course ; 
except, only in those persons who have had 
the happiness to be trained up to religion by 
the easy and insensible degrees of a pious and 
*• virtuous education.*' This sentence is far 
firftm being harmonious 3 owing chiefly to this. 









RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 2OT 

that there is, properly, no more than one pause 
in it, falling between the two members into 
which it is divided ; each of which is so long a$ 
to require a considerable stretch of the breath in 
pronouncing it*. Let us observe now, on the 
contrary, the grace of the following passage, 
from Sir William Temple, in which he speaks 
sarcastically of man. ** But, God be thanked* 
** his pride is greater than his ignorance ; an4 
** what he wants in knowledge, he supplies by 
" sufficiency. When he has looked about him, 
** as far as he can, he concludes there is no 
** more to be seen ; when he is at the end of his 
•^ line, he is at the bottom of the ocean ; when 
" he has shot his best, he is sure none ever did, 
•^ or ever can, shoot better, or beyond it J His 
** own reason he holds to be the certain measure 
*' o( truth ; and his own knowledge of what is 
** possible in nature." Here every thing is, at 
the same time, easy to the breath, and grateful to 
the ear. We must, however, observe, that if 
composition abounds with sentences which have 
too many rests, and these placed at intervals too 
apparently measured and regular, it is apt to sa- 
vour of affectation. 

Tlie i^ext thing which demands our attention 
is ihe close or cadence of the whole sentence. 



* There is not perhaps so invelerate, or so ill-grounded aa 
error, as that which prevails among all rhetoricians ancient 
and modern, of supposing that a long sentence necessarily re- 
quires a long effusion of breath and occasions great difficulty 
of pronunciation. Those who have perused HlctncfUs of Elocw* 
Hon, page 25, and the former part of this treatise^ will, I flatter 
myself, see the folly of this notion. Those, above all others, 
ought not to adopt it who contend that every line of ^erse, 
whether the sense require it or not, ought to be marked with a 
pause of suspension. . Se,e Ekf/icnU of Elocution, paga 2iiS. 



SSS RHETORICAL GRAMMAR* 

The only important rule which can here fee 
given is, that when we aim at dignity or eleva- 
tion, the sound should increase to the last; the 
longest rhembers of the period, and the fullest and 
most sonorous words, should be employed in the 
conclusion. As an instance of this, tne following 
sentence of Mr. Addison may be given. " It 
" fills the mind," speaking or sight, " with the 
^ largest variety of ideas ; converses with its 
** objects at the greatest distance ; and continues 
*• the longest in action without being tired or 
" satiated with its proper enjoyments." Here 
every reader must be sensible of a beauty, both in 
the just division of the members and pauses, and 
the manner in which the sentence is rounded 
and brought to a full and harmonious termi- 
liation. 

It may be remarked, that little words, in the 
conclusion of a sentence, are as injurious to me- 
lody as they are inconsistent with strength of 
expression. A musical close in our language 
seems, in general, to require either the last syl- 
lable, or the last but one, to be a long syllable. 
Words which consist chiefly of short syllables, 
as contrary y particular^ retrospect, seldom termi- 
nate a sentence harmoniously, unless a run of 
long syllables, before, has rendered them plea^ 
ing to the ear. 

Sentences, however, which are so constructed 
as to make the sound always swell and grow 
towards the end, and to rest either on a long or 
a penult long syllable, give a discourse the tone 
cf declamation. If melody be not varied, the ear 
. soon becomes acquainted and cloyed with it. 
Sentences constructed in the same manner, with 
the pauses at equal intervals^ should njever sue* 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 289* 

teed eiach other. Short sentences must be blended 
with long and swelling ones, to render discourse 
sprightly as well as magnificent. 

We now proceed to treat of a higher species 
of harmony — the sound adapted to the sense.' 
Of this we may remark two degrees: First, the' 
current of sound suited to the tenor of a dis-- 
course: Next, a peculiar resemblance effected 
between some object and the sounds that are 
employed in describing it. 

Sounds have, in many respectS5 an intimate 
correspondence with our ideas; partly natural, 
partly produced by artificial associations. Hence; 
toy one modulation of sound continued, stamps 
oil our style a certain character and expression; 
Sentences constructed with the Ciceronian ful- 
ness and swell excite an idea of what is impor- 
tant, magnificent, and sedate. They suit, how- 
ever, no violent passion, no eager reasoning, no 
familiar address. These require measures brisker, 
easier, and more concise. It were as ridiculous 
to write a familiar .epistle and a funeral oration 
in a style of the same cadence, as to set tlie 
words of a tender love-song to the tune of a 
warlike march. 

Besides that general correspondence which 
the current of 3ound has with the current of 
thought, a more particular expression may be 
attempted, of certain objects, by resembling 
sounds. In poetry this |-esemblance is chiefly to 
be looked for. It obtains sometimes, indeed, in 
prose composition; but there in a more faint and 
inferior degree. 

'The sounds of words may be employed to 
describe chiefly three classes of objects; first, 

u 



tSO RHETORICAL GRAMMAR* 

Qther sounds; secondly, motion; and thirdly, 
the emotions and passions of the mind. 

In most languages it will be found, that the 
qames of many particular sounds are so formed 
as to bear some resemblance to the so\md which 
they signify; as with us, the whistling of winds, 
the buzz and hum of insects, the hiss of serpents, 
£[nd the crash of falling timber ; and many other 
instances, where the word has been plainly con- 
structed from the sound it represents*. A remark* 
able iexample of this beauty we shall produce 
from ,Milton, taken from two* passages in h\% 
Paradise Lost, describing the sound made in the 
one, by the opening of the gates of hell ; in the 
oth^r, by the opening of those of heaven. The 
contrast beteen the two exhibits to great ad- 
vantagie the art of the poet. The first is the 
opening hell's gates : 

» ■ I On a sudden, open fly, 

. With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
Th* infernal doors; and on their hinges grate 
Harsh thunder. 

Observe the smoothness of the other : 



Heaven opened wide 



Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound ! 
On golden hinges turning. 

The second class of objects, which the sound 
of words is frequently employed to imitate, is 
motion : as it is swift or slow, violent or gentle, 
uniform or interrupted, easy or accompanied 
with eflfort. Between sound and motion there is 
no natural affinity; yet in the imagination there 
is a strong one, as is evident from the connex- 

* For a fuller explanation of this figure in compositionj^ 
See page 230. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 291 

ion between music and dancing. The poetxan, 
consequently, give us a lively idea or the kind 
of motion he would describe, by the help of ' 
sound, which corresponds, in our imagination, 
with that motion. Long syllables naturally ex- 
cite the idea of slow motion; as in this line of 
Pope: 

Up the high hill he heaves a huge rdund stone 

. A succession of short syllables gives the im- 
pression of quick motion : as, in Milton,^— 

Willie on the tawny sands dnd shelves 
Trip the pert fairies and tlie dapper elves. 

The works of Homer and VirgiL abound witli 
instances of this beauty, whicn are so often 
quoted, and so well known, that it is unnecessary 
to produce them. 

The third set of objects, which we mentioned 
the sound of words as capable of representing, 
consists of the emotions and passions of the mind. 
Between sense and sound there appears, at first 
view, to be tto natural resemblance. But if the 
arrangement of syllables, by the sound alone, 
calls forth one set of ideas more readily than 
another, and disposes the mind for entering into 
that affection which the poet intends to raise, 
such arrangement may, with propriety, be said 
to resemble the sense, or be similar and corre- 
spondent to it. Thus when pleasure, joy, and 
agreeable objects, are described by one who sen- 
sibly feels his subject, the language naturally 
runs into smooth, liquid, and flowing numbers : 

joy, thou wrelcQme stranger ! twice three years 

1 have not felt thy vital beams ; but now 

It warms my veins and plays around my heart : 

A fiery instinct lifts me frpm the ground. 

And 1 could mount Youm* 

u2 



392 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Brisk and lively sensations excite quicker aud 
more animated numbers : 

• The offer likes not, and the nimble gunner 
With linstock now the dev*]ish,cannon touches. 
And down goes all before him. Shakespcar, 

Melancholy and -gloomy subjects are natu*- 
rally Connected with slow measures and long 
words : 

In those deep solitudes and awful cells. 

Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells. Pbpe^ 

Abundant instances of this kind will be sug- 
gested by a moderate acquaintance with the gooA 
poets, either ancient or modern. 



* 
General Characters of Style. 

Diffuse, Concise^ Feeble, Ne?wiis, Dry, Plain, 
Neat, Elegant, Flowery, 

That different subjects ought to be treated 
in different kinds of style, is a position so self- 
evident, that it requires not illustration. - Every 
one is convinced, that treaties of philosophy 
should not be composed in the same style with 
orations. It is equally apparent, that different 
parts of the same composition require a variation 
in the style and manner. Yet amidst this va- 
riety, we still expect to find, in the composition of 
any one man, some degree of uniformity or con- 
sistency with himself, in manner; we expect to 
find some prevailing character of style impressed 
on all his writings, which shall be suited to, and 
shall distinguish,\his particular genius and turn 
of mind. The orations in Livy differ conside- 



r 



\ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR^ 293 

Tably in style, as they ought to do, from the rest of 
his history. The same thing may be observed 
in those of Tacitus. Yet in the orations of both 
these elegant historians, the distinguishing man- 
ner of each may be clearly traced ; the splendid 
fulness of the one, and the sententious brevity of 
the other. Wherever there is real and native ge* 
nius, it prompts a disposition to one kind of 
style rather than to another. Where this is 
wanting, where tliere is no marked nor pecu- 
liar character which appears in the compositions 
of an author, we ar^ apt to conclude, and not 
without cause, that he is a vulgar and trivial 
author, who writes from imitation, and not from 
the impulse of original genius. 

One of the first and most obvious distinctions 
of the different sorts of style arises from an au» 
thor's expanding his thoughts more or less. 
The distinction constitutes what are termed the 
diffuse and concise styles. A concise writer 
compresses his ideas into the fewest words; h^ 
employs none but the most expressive ; he lop5 
off ajl those which are not a material addition 
to the senjse. Whatever or'nament he admits is 
adopted for the sake of force, rather 'than of 
grace. The same thought is never repeated. 
The utmost precision is studied in his sentences ; 
and they are generally designed to suggest more 
to the reader's imagination than they imme- 
diately express. 

A diffuse writer unfolds his idea fully, He 
holds it out in a variety of lights, and assists the 
reader, as much as possibfe, in comprehending 
it completely. He is not very anxious to express 
it at first in its full strength, because he intends 
repeating the impression i and what he w;^nts ig: 

tj3 



»4 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

strength he endeavours to supply by copious- 
ness. His periods naturally flow into some 
length ; and having room for ornament of every 
kind, he'gives it free admittance. 

Each of these styles has its • peculiar advan- 
tages, and each becomes faulty when carried to 
the extreme. Of conciseness carried as far as 
propriety will allow, perhaps in some cases 
farther, Tacitus the historian, and Montesquieu, 
in *^ FEsprit de Loix," are remarkable exam- 
ples. Of a beautiful and magnificent difFuse- 
ness, Cicero is, undoubtedly, the noblest in-, 
stance which can be given. Addison also, and 
Sir William Temple, may be ranked in some 
degree under the same class. 

To determine when to adopt the concise, and 
when the diffuse manner, we must bq guided 
by the nature of the composition. Discourses 
which are to be spoken require a more diffuse 
style than books which are to be read. In writ- 
ten compositions, a proper degree of concise-^ 
ness has great advantages. It is more lively ; 
keeps up attention; makes a stronger impression. 
pn thp niind ; and gratifies the reader by supply- 
ing more exercise to his conception, Descrip^ 
tion, when we wish to have it vivid and anima- 
ted, should be in a concise strain, Any redun- 
(^ant words or circumstances encumber the; fan-? 
cy^ ajftd render the object we presept to it conr 
fused apd indistinct. The strength and vivacity 
qf description, whether in prose qr poetry, de- 
pend much more upon the happy choice of one 
or two important circumstances than upon the 
multiplication of them. When we desire to 
strike the fancy, or to move the heart, we should 
\^ foncis? ', when to inform tl^e understanding^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. . 295 

which is more delibemte in its motions, and 
wants the assistance of a guide, it is better to 
be full. Historical narration may be beautiful, 
either in a concise or diffuse manner, accord- 
ing to the author's genius. Livy and Herodo- 
tus are diffuse ; Thucydides and Sallust are con- 
cise; yet they are all agreeable. 

The nervous and the feeble are generally con- 
sidered as characters of style, of the same import 
with the concise and the diffuse. They do, 
indeed, very frequently coincide; yet this does 
not always hold; since there are instances of 
writers, who, in the midst of a full and ample 
style, have maintained a considerable degree of 
strength. Livy is an instance of the truth of 
this observation. The foundation, indeed, of 
a nervous or weak style is laid in an author*s 
manner of thinking : If he conceives an object 
forcibly, he will express it with strength ; but 
if he has an indistinct view of his*subject, this 
will clearly appear in his style. Unmeaning 
words and loose epithets will escape him ; his 
expressions will be vague and general ; his ar- 
jrangement indistinct and weak ; and our concep- 
tion of his meaning will be faint ^nd confused. 
But a nervous writer, be his style concise or 
extended, gives us always a strong idea of his 
meaning; his mind being full of his subject, 
his words are, consequently, all expressive; 
^very phrase, and every figure which he uses, 
renders the picture which he w©uld set before 
us more striking and cpmplete. 

It must, however, be observed, that too great 
a study of strength, to the neglect of the other 
qualities of style, is apt to betray writers iiita a 
harsh manner. Harshness proceeds from u^^ 

u 4- 



296 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

common words, from forced inversions in the 
, construction of a sentence, and too great neg* 
lect of smoothness and ease. This is imputed 
as a fault to some of our earliest classics in the 
English language ; such as Sir Walter ^l^aleigh. 
Sir Francis Bacon, Hooker, Harrington, Cud- 
worth, and other writers of considerable rt-* 
Jutation in the days of Queen Elizabeth, James 
. and Charles I. These writers had nervea 
^nd strength in a considerable degree ; and are to 
this day distinguished by that quality in style. 
But the language, in their hands, was very dift 
ferent from what it is at present, and was, inr 
deed, entirely formed upon the idiom and con- 
struction of the Latin, in the arrangement of 
seQtences, The present form which the laur 
guage has assumed, has, in some degree, sacri-r 
ficed the -study of strength to that of ease and 
perspicuity. Our arrangement has become- less 
lorcibJe, perhaps, but more plain and natural ; 
and this is now considered as the genius of our 
tongue. 

Hitherto style has been considered under those 
characters which regard its expressiveness of an 
author's meaning : We will now consider it in 
* another view, with respect to the degree of orna- 
ment employed to embellish it. Here the style 
of diflFerent authors seems to rise in the following 
gradation: A dry, a plain, a neat, an eleojant, 
a flowery manner. Or these we wiij treat briefly, 
in the order in which they stand. 

A dry manner excludes every kind of ornar 
ment. Satisfied with being understood, it aims 
not to please, in the least degree, either the 
fancy or the ear. This is tolerable only in 
pijre didactic writing 5 and eVen there to mqkc 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 297 

us bear it, great solidity of matter is necessary, 
and entire perspicuity of language. 

A plain style advances one degree above a dry 
one. A writer of this character employs very 
little ornament of any kind, and rests almost en- 
tirely upon his sense. But, though he does not 
engage us by the arts of composition, he avoids 
disgusting us like a dry and harsh writer. Be- 
sides perspicuity, he observes propriety, purity, 
and precision, in his language ; which form na 
inconsiderable degree of beauty. Liveliness and 
force are also compatible with a plain style ; and, 
consequently, such an author, if his sentiments 
be good, may be sufficiently agreeable. The 
difference between a dry and a plain writer is, 
that the former is incapable of ornament, — the 
latter goes not in pursuit of it. Of those who 
have employed the plain style. Dean Swift is an 
eminent example. 

A neat style is next in order; and here we are 
advanced into the region of ornament; but that 
ornament is not of the most sparkling kind. A 
writer of this character shows that he does not 
despise the beauty of language, by his attention 
to the choice of his words, and to their graceful 
collocation. His sentences are always free from 
the incumbrance of superfluous words; are of a 
moderate lengthy rather inclining to brevity 
than a swelling structure ; and closing with pro- 
priety. There is variety in his cadence; but no 
appearance of studied harmony. His figures; 
if any, are short and accurate, rather than bold 
and glowing. Such a style may be attained by 
a writer whose powers of fancy or genius ar<* 
not extensive, by industry and attention. This 
pgrt of style is not unsuitable to any subject 



2d8 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

whatever, A familiar epistle, or a law paper^ 
on the driest subject, may be composed with 
neatness; and a sermon, or a philosophical trea- 
tise, in a neat style, will be read with satis- 
faction. 

An elegant style admits a higher degree of 
ornament than a neat one ; and possesses all the 
virtues of ornament, without any of its excesses 
or defects. Complete elegance implies great 
perspicuity and propriety; purity in the choice 
of words, and carefulness and skill in their har- 
monious and happy arrangement. It implies 
farther, — the beauty of imagination spread over 
style, as far as the subject allows it, — and all the 
illustration which figurative language affords, 
when properly employed. An elegant writer, 
in short, is one who delights the fancy and the 
ear, while he informs the understanding ; and 
who clothes his ideas with all the beauty of ex- 
pression, but does not overload them with any 
of its misplaced finery. 

Style — Simple ; Affected; Vehement, 

Directions for forming a proper Sfi/le. 

Simplicity, applied to writing, is a term 
very commonly used; but, like many other cri- 
tical terms, it is often used vaguely, and with- 
out precision. The different meanings given to 
the word simplicity have been the chief cause 
of this inaccuracy. It will not, therefore, be 
improper to make a distinction between them, 
and show in what sense simplicity is a proper 
attribute of style. There are four different ac- 
ceptations in which this term is taken. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 299 

The first is simplicity of Composition, which 
as opposed to too great a variety of parts. This 
is the simplicity of plan in a tragedy, as di- 
stinguished from double plots and crowded inci- 
dents ; the simplicity of the Iliad, in opposition 
to the digressions of Lucan ; the simplicity of 
Grecian architecture, in opposition to the irre- 
gularity (if the 'Gothic — Simplicity, in this sense, 
is the same as unity. 

The second sense, is simplicity of thought 
in opposition to refinement. Simple thoughts 
are those which flow naturally, which are easily 
suggested by the subject or occasion, and which, 
when once suggested, are universally understood. 
Refinement in writing means a less obvious 
and natural turn of thought, which, when car- 
ried too far, approaches to intricacy, and is un- 
pleasing, by the appearance of being far sought. 
Thus we should say, that Mr. Parnell is a poet 
of much greater simplicity, in his turn of 
thought, than Mr. Cowley. 

A third sense of simplicity,— is that in which 
it regards style, — is opposed to too much orna- 
ment or pomp of language. Thus we say, 
Mr. I^ocke is a simple, Mr. Hervey a florid, 
writer. 

There is a fourth sense of simplicity, which 
also j^espects style : but it regards not so much 
the degree of ornament employed as the easy 
^nd natural manner in which language is ex- 
pressive of our thoughts. In this sense, simpli- 
city is compatible with the highest ornament. 
Homer, for example; has this simplicity in the 
greatest perfection ; and yet no writer possesses 
more ornament and beauty. This simplicity, 
^yhich is now the object of our consider^t;ion. 



300 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

stands opposed not to ornament but to affecta- 
tion of ornament; and is a superior excellency 
in composition. 

A writer who has attained simplicity has no 
marks of art in his expression ; it appears the 
very language of nature. We see not the writer 
and his labour, but the man in his own natural 
character. He may possess richness of expression ; 
he may be full of figures and of fancy; but 
these flow from him without difficulty ;. and he 
seems to write in this manner, not because he has 
6tudie<l it, but because it is the mode of expression 
most familiar and easy to him. With this cha- 
racter of style, a certain degree of negligence is 
not inconsistent, nor even ungraceful; for too 
accurate an attention to words is foreign to it. 
Simplicity of style possesses this considerable ad- 
vantage, that, like simplicity of manners, it 
shows U6 a man's sentiments and turn of mind 
laid open without disguise. A more studied and 
artificial mode of writing, however beautiful, 
has always this disadvantage, tlmt it exhibits an 
author in form, like a man at court, where the 
splendor of dress, and the ceremonial of beha-^ 
viour, conceal those peculiarities which distin- 
guish one .individual from another. But readr 
ing an author of simplicity is like conversing 
with a person of rank at home, and with ease, 
where we see his natural manners ^nci his real 
character. 

With regard to simplicity, in general, we may 
observe, that the ancient original writers are al^ 
w:ays the most eminent for it. This proceeds 
from a very obvious cause, that they wrote from 
the dictates of natural genius, and were not 
formed upon the labours and writings of others. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 301 

Of affectation in style, which is opposed ta 
simplicity, we have a remarkable instance in our 
language. Lord Shaftesbury, though an author 
of considerable merit, can express nothing with 
simplicity. He seems to have considered it as 
vulgar, and beneath the dignity of a man of 
fashion, to speak like other men. Hence he is 
perpetually in buskins, replete with circumlocu- 
tions and artificial elegance. In every sentence 
tiie marks of labour are visible, — no appearance 
of that ease which expresses a sentiment coming 
natural and warm from the heart. He abounds 
with figures and ornament of every kind, — is 
sometimes happy in them ; but his fondness for 
them is too conspicuous ; and having once 
seized some metaphor or allusion that pleased 
him, he knows not how to part with it. He 
possessed delicacy and refinement of taste to a 
degree that may be called excessive and sickly j 
but he had little warmth of passion j and the 
coldness of his character suggested that artificial 
and stately manner which . appears in his wri- 
tings. No author is more dangerous to the tribe 
of imitators than Shaftesbury, who, amidst seve- 
ral very considerable blemishes, has, at the same; 
time, many dazzling and imposing beauties. 

It is very possible, however, for an author ta 
write with simplicity, and yet to be destitute of 
beauty. He may be free from aflfectation, and 
not have merit. The beautiful simplicity sup-? 
poses an author in possession of real genius, and 
capable of writing with solidity, purity, and 
brilliancy of imagination. In this case, the sim-» 
plicity of his manner is the crowning ornament ; 
It gives lustre to every other beauty; it U the 
dress of nature, w^ ithout >vhich all beautiijs are 



302 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

but imperfect! But if the mere absence of afFec* 
tation were sufficient to constitute the beauty of 
style, weak and dull writers might often have 
pretensions to it. A distinction, therefore, must 
be made, between that simplicity which accom- 
panies true genius, and which is entirely com- 
patible with every proper ornament of style, and 
that which is the effect only of carelessness and 
inattention. 

Another character of style, different from 
those which have been already mentioned, is the 
vehement. This always supposes strength, and 
is not, in any jrespect, incompatible with sim- 
plicity. It is distinguished by a peculiar ardour ; 
tt is the language of a man whose imagination 
and passions are glowing and impetuous. With 
a negligence of lesser graces, he pours himself 
forth with the rapidity and plenitude of a tor- 
rent. The vehement belongs to the higher kinds 
of oratory ; and is rather' expected froth a man 
who is speaking, than from one who is writing 
in his closet. Demosthenes is the most full and. 
perfect example of this species of style. 

Having determined and explained the diffe- 
rent characters of style, we shall conclude our 
observations with a few directions for the at- 
tainment of excellence in writing. 

The first direction proper to be observed is, 
to study clear ideas on the subject concerning 
which we are to write or to speak. What we 
conceive clearly and feel strongly we shall na- 
turally express with clearness and with strength. . 
We should, therefore, think closely on the sub- 
ject, till we have attained a full and distinct 
view of the matter which we are to clothe in 
words, — till we become warm and interested in 



RHETORrCAL GRAMMAR. 303 

it ; then, and then only, shall we find a proper 
expression begin to flow. 

In the, second place, to the acquisition of a 
good style, the frequency of composing is indis- 
pensably requisite. But it is not every kind of 
composing which will improve style. By a care- 
less and hasty habit of writing, a bad style will 
be acquired ; more trouble will afterwards be 
necessary to unlearn . faults, and correct negli- 
gence, than to endeavour, from a state of entire 
ignorance, to become acquainted with the fifst 
rudiments of composition. In the beginning, 
therefore, we ought to write with deliberation 
and with care. Facility and speed are the fruit 
of practice and experience. We must be cauti- 
ous, however, not to retard the course of thought, 
nor cool the ardour of imagination, by pausing 
too long on every word we employ. On certain^ 
occasions, there is a glow of composition which 
mtist be kept up, if we expect to express our- 
selves happily, though at the expence of some 
inaccuracies. A more severe examination must 
be the work of correction. What we have writ- 
ten should be laid by for gome time, till the 
ardour of composition be subsided, till the par- 
tiality for our expressions be weakened, and the 
expressions themselves be forgotten ; and then 
examining our work with a cool and critical 
eye, as it it were the performance of another^ 
we shall discover many imperfections which at 
first escaped our notice. 

In the third place, an acquaintance with the 
style of the best authors is peculiarly requisite. 
Hence a just tast^ will be formed, and a co- 
pious fund be supplied, of words on every sub- 
ject. No exercise, perhaps, will be found more 



304 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

useful for acquiring a proper style than ta^ 
translate some passage from an elegant author 
into our own words. Thus, to take, for in- 
stance, a page of one of Mr. Addison's Specta- 
tors, and read it attentively two or three tinaes, 
till we are in fiill possession of the thoughts it 
contains; then to lay aside the book, to endea- 
vour to write out the passage from memory, a$ 
well as we can, — and then to compare what we 
have written with the style of the author. Such 
an exercise will, by comparison, show us our 
own defects; will teach us to correct them; 
and, from the variety of expression which it will 
exhibit, will conduct us to that which is most 
beautiful and perfect. 

In the fourth place, a caution must be given 
against a servile imitation of any one author 
whatever. A desire of imitating hampers genius^ 
and generally produces a stiffness of expression. 
They who follow^ an author minutely com- 
monly copy his faults as well as his beauties* 
No one will ever become an accomplished writer 
or speaker who has not some confidence in his 
own genius. We ought carefully to avoid using 
any author's particular phrases, or transcribing 
passages from him : such an habit will be fatal 
to all genuine qomposition. It is much better to 
possess something of our own^ though of infe- 
rior beauty, than to endeavour to shine in bor- 
rowed ornaments, which will, at last, l)etray the 
utter barrenness of our genius. 

In the fifth place, it is a plain but important 
rule, with regard to style, that we always endea- 
vour to adapt it to the subject, and likewise to 
the capacity of our hearers, if we are to speak 
in public. To attempt a poetical, florid style^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMM'AR. ^m 

when it should be our business only to argue and 
reason, is in the highest degree awkward and 
absurd. To speak with elaborate pomp of words, 
before those who cannot comprehend them, h 
equally ridiculous and useless. When we begin 
to write or speak, we should previously impr^s^ 
on our minds a complete idea of the end to be 
aimed at; keep this steadily in view, aiid adapt 
our style to it. 

We must, in the last place, reconimend, that 
an attentive regard to -style do not occupy us sp 
much, as to detract from a higher degree of at- 
tehtion to the thoughts. This rule is the more 
necessary, since the present faste of the age seems 
to be directed more to style than to thought. It 
is much more easy to dress up trifling and com- 
mon thoughts with some ornament of expression, 
than to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious, 
and useful sentiments. The latter requires 
genius ; the former may be attained by industry, 
with the aid of very superficial parts. Hence 
the crowd of writers who are rich in words, but- 
poor in sentiments. Custom obliges us not to be 
inattentive to the ornaments of style, if we wi^h 
that our labours should be read and admired.' 
But he is a contemptible writer, who looks not 
beyond the dress ot language, who lays not the' 
chief stress upon his matter, and who does not 
regard ornament as a secondary and inferior re- 
commendation. 

AVith respect to the figures of Rhetoric with 
which style is so much invigorated and embel* 
Jished, See page 1 80. 



X 



906 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

THUS far, v/lth the most trifling alterations^ 
I have followed Dr. Blair, who, in those part& 
pf oratory called Disposition aod Elocution, or 
^'Qhoice and arrangement of words, has exceed* 
ed every writer who went before him. I flatter 
myself that in Pronunciation or Delivery, which 
forms the last part of oratory, something more 
svstematical and satisfactory has. been ofiefed in 
tne present work than in any that has hitherto 
been published. But there is another part of ora^ 
tory called. Invention, which has been but little 
insisted on by our modern writers^ whicb, how- 
ever, seems to form the basis of the art. Dn 
Blair has not only omitted but discounteci^iK^ 
this part of rhetoric ; and s|ich an opinion have 
I of the good sense of this writer^ that J should 
much doubt of its utility, if the very reason of 
the thing, as well as the authority of the an- 
cients and some of the most respectable among 
the modems, did not sanction and recommend 
it, Dr, Priestley's reasons for the use^ of topics 
appear to me unanswerable, 

*^ I am aware (says he) that this whole business 
*^ of topics is objected to by some as altogether 
*' useless, and what no persons, who are capable 
** of composing at all, ever stand in need of, or 
*^ have recourse to." To this I reply, that, in fact, 
no person ever did, or ever can compose at all 
without having recourse to something of a simi-. 
]ar nature. What is recollection but the intro* 
duction of one idea into the mind by means of 
another with which it was previously associated,^ 
Are not ideas associated by. means of their con-» 
flection with, and relation to, one another ? And 
is it not very possible that particular ideas may 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. «0l 

be xccc^lected by means of ^ewem/ ideas, which 
include them ? 

It is impossible to endeavour to recoiled for, 
as we generally say, invent) materials' for a ais- 
course, without running over in our minds suth 
general heads of discourse as we have found by 
experience to assist us in that operation. It is 
even impossible to conceive in what other man- 
ner a volu7ztary effort to invent, or recollect, can 
be directed. A person may not have recourse 
Xo any particular list, or enumeration of topics y 
or he may never have heard of the artificial dis- 
tribution of them by rhetoricians; but if he com- 
pose at all, though he may be ignorant of the '■ 
name, he must be possessed of the thin^. And if 
a person have any regular method in his compo-^ 
sitions, he must, moreover, have arranged those 
topics in his mind in some kind of order; the se^ 
yeral particulars of which, being attended to 
$uccessively, furnishes him with a plan for com- 
position. Now is it not better to sit down to 
composition provided with a tolerably complete 
list of those topics, digested with care and pre- 
cision, than make use of such a one as we ca- 
3ualjy and without any design form to oursfelves 
from general reading only, or a little practice in 
composition, which cannot but be very imper- 
fect, anci inadequate to the purpose to which it; 
is applied? 

After previously running over such a table, ^ 
person would be much better able to fonn an 
idea of the <?.r/e»^X)f his subject, and might con- 
duct his composition accordingly; or perusing.it 
after reading the composition of another, he might 
with much greater certainty know whether any 
thin§ of importance had been left unsaid upon 

x8 



308 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR: 

the subject ; or whether, if the discourse werd 
necessarily limited to a few arguments, the wri^ 
ter had selected the best. 

If we pay any regard to the practice of the 
famous orators of antiquity, we cannot but be 
disposed to think favourably of topics ; for it is 
certain that they made great use of topics, as 
appears in the writings of Cicero and Ciuin-. 
tilian. Too much may be expected from any 
thing, and an improper use may be made of any 
thing; but this is no argument against the judi^ 
cious and proper use of it. 

It were absurd for any person slavishly to 
oblige himself to borrow something from every 
topic of discourse ; much more to set it down in 
the order in which they may happen to be enu-* 
merated ; but, having glanced the whole, let 
him take what is most to his purpose, and omit 
every thing that would appear far-fetched^j or to 
be introduced for the sake of swelling the bulk 
of a discourse. 

I am very ready, however, to acknowledge, 
that rhetorical topics are more useful in the 
composition of set declamations on trite subjects, 
and to t/oung persons, than in the communication 
of original matter, and to persons much used to 
composition. Original thoughts cannot but sug- 
gest themselves, so that all the assistance any 
person can want in this case is a proper man-, 
npr of arranging them, And a person much 
used to compositiop will have acquired a habit 
of recollection, without any express attention to 
tppics; just as ^ person used to the harpsicord, 
or any other instrument of music, wilj be able to 
perform without an express attention to rules, or 
, even to the m^nijer of placing hi3 fingers, His 



kttEtORICAL GRAMMAk. ^09 

idea of the tune m generdl is so cidsely associate 
ed with all the motions of his fingers necessary 
to the playing of it, and these motions are also 
so closely associated togetheri that they foUoW 
one another mechanically, in what Dr. Hartley 
calls a secdndarily automatic mannevy which it 
almost as certain as a motion originally and pro* 
perly nutomntit. 

As rules for invehtiotij of, as Dr. Priestley 
more properly calls itj recollection^ are established 
by such good reasons^ and on so respectable 
authority^ I shall .preseht the student with a 
large extract from the System of Oratory of the 
learned Dr* Ward^ professor of Gresham Col- 
lege. And as this book has long been out of 
print, and is scarcely to be got, 1 flatter myself 
I shall make my reader no unacceptable pre-^ 
sent, by giving him the learned professor's Lec-^ 
tures on In^?itit>nj or that ^art of rhetoric which 
treats on the method of finding out arguments 
for the proof of what is proposed* 



Of the principal Distribution of Oratory, 

The principal distribution of the subject of 
oratory is made> by dividing it into three kinds 
of discourse, called by the ancients demons tra^ 
tive, deliberative^ and Judicial. The j^rst of these 
comprehends all such discourses as relate to 
the praise or dispraise of persons or things. 
This is a very extensive field, and contains in it 
whatever in nature or art, on the account of any 
good or bad qualities, excellences or defects, is 
fit to be made the subj^ect of a discourse. By 

• x3 



310 RHETOlUCAt GRAMMAR. 

this^ virtue h applauded, and vicef cei^siavd i 
good examples recommended to the imitation 
of others, and bad ones exposed to their abhors 
rence. All panegvric and invective are its pro^ 
per themes. So tnat the chief design of these 
discourses is to inspire men with generous sen* 
timents of honour and virtue, and lo give them, 
a distaste to every thing that is base and vi-- 
cious, by examples of each, which are the most 
powerful means of instruction. Though, as has 
been said already, they are not wholly confined 
to persons. To the deliberative kind belongs 
whatever may become a subject of debate, con* 
sultation, or advice. Of this sort are all speeches 
made in public assemblies, which respect the 
common good and benefit of mankind, their 
lives, liberties, and estates s whatever is advised 
to, or dissuaded from, upon the foot of any va-« 
iuable interest, whi^ is the end proposed in 
these discourses, so far as it is consistent with 
honour and justice. The last head contains all 
judicial subjects s by this property is secured, 
innocence protected, justice maintained, and 
crimes punished. All matters canvassed ^t the 
bar are of this sort. And it is doubtless a very 
valuable and useful end in speaking, to vindicate 
justice and equity in opposition to firaud or vio- 
lence. Aristotle is said to have been the a.uthor 
of this division, which seems to be very just ; 
since perhaps there is no subject of oratory, 
whether sacred or civil, but may be referred to 
one or other of these heads, as will be show%& 
hereafter, when I come to treat of each of them 
in particular. 



]EU)£T0KICAL GiLAMMtAR. ■ t)U 

Of tntention in genefat, and parHcfularh/ of 

Common Plates. 

Invention, considered in general^ is the disco 
Very of such things as are proper to persuade^ 
And in order to attain this end, the orator pro- 
poses to himself three things; to prove or illus- 
trate the subject upon which he treats, to con- 
t:iliate the minds of his hearers, and to engage 
their passions in his favour. And as these re»* 
quire different kinds of arguments or motives, 
invention furnishes him with a supply for each 
of them, as will be shown in their order. 

I shall first consider that part of InoenticTi 
which directs to arguments proper for the proof cf 
a things which, as Cicero tells us, is, " the-dis*- 
** covery of such things as are really true, or 
" that seem to be so, and make the thing, for 
*^ which they are produced, appear probable*" 
And the things, which are thus discovered, are 
called Arguments \ for, " an Argument," as de- 
fined by him, ^^ is a reason, which induces us to 
*^ believe what before we doubted of." If we 
reflect upon those things, which relate to the 
common affairs of life, and the numerous trans^ ' 
actions between mankind, we shaH find that 
most of them are of a dubious nature, and liable 
to various constructions, as they are taken in 
different views; from whence a diversity of opi- 
nions is formed concerning them. And where 
the nature of the thing does not admit of cer* 
tainty, every considerate and prudent person 
will give into that side of the question which 
carries in it the greater degree of probability. 
And as these are the subjects with which the 
ancient orators were principally cpncenfed, we 

x4 



312 RHETORICAL GRAMSIAR. 

find, by Cicpro's definition, that all be reqKii'e^ 
of such arguments as they commonly made use 
of, is to render a thing probable. Indeed there 
arc some things which do not so much require 
reasoning, as a proper and suitable manner of 
representing them, to make them credible; and 
because the several ways of illustrating these are 
also taught by the precepts of this art, they are 
likewise, in a large sense of the word, called 
arguments. 

. But as different kinds of discourses require 
different argumaiiSy rhetoricians have considered 
them two ways ; in general, under certain heads, 
as a common fund for all subjects; and in a 
more particular manner, as they are suited to 
demonstrative y deliberative ^ or judicial discourses. 
At present I shall treat only upon the former of 
these. And now, that one thing may receive 
proof and confirmation from another, it is ne- 
cessary that there be some relation between 
them ; for all things are not equally adapted to 
prove one another. 

That we may the better conceive this, I shall 
make use of a plain and familiar instance. la 
measuring the quantity of two things which we 
wquld show to be either equal or unequal, if 
they are of such a nature that one cannot be 
applied to the other, then we take a third thing, 
which may be applied to them both, — and that 
must be equal at least to one of the two, which, 
if applied to the other, and found equal to that 
also, we presently conclude that those two 
things are equal; but if it be unequal to the 
other, we say that thbse two things are unequal. 
Because it is the certain and known property of 
all quantities, that whatsoever two things are 



KHETORICAL GkAMMAJt. Sis 

tqual tO' a third, are equal to one another^ aftd 
where one of any two things is equal to a thifd> 
&nd the other unequal, those two things are un* 
equal to one another. What has been said of 
quantities will hold true in all other cases, — ^that 
so far as any two things or ideas agree to a 
third, so far they agree to one a:nother. And by 
agreeing, I understand this, that the one may be 
affirmed of the other. So likewise on the con- 
trary, as far as one of any two things or ideas 
does agree to a third, and the other does not, so 
far they disagree with one another, in which re* 
spect one of them cannot be truly affirmed of 
the other. Since therefore in* every proposition 
one thing is spoken of another, if we would find 
out whether the two ideas agree to each other 
or not, where this is not evident of itself, we 
must find out some third thing, the idea of which 
agrees to one of them ; and then that being ap- 
plied to the other, as it does agree or disagree 
with it, so we may conclude that the two 
things proposed do agree or disagree with one 
another. , 

This will be/made more clear by an example 
or two. Should it be inquired, Whethej^ virtue 
is to be loved? the agreement between virtue 
and love might be found by comparing them se- 
parately with happiness, as a common measure 
to both. For since the idea of happiness agrees 
to that of love, and the idea of virtue to that of 
happiness, it follows that the ideas of virtue 
and love agree to one another; and therefore it 
may be affirmed. That virtue is to be loved. But 
on the contrary, because the idea of misery dis- 
agrees with that of love, but the idea of vice 
agrees to that of misery, the two ideas of vice 



314 HHKtOktCAL dRAMMAR. 

and love must consequ^fly disagree with (mtf 
another; and therefore it would be false to as^ 
fiert, Tliat vice is io he toved. Now this third 
thing logicians call the medium or middle term^ 
because it does as it Were Connect two ex* 
tremes^ that is, both parts of a proposition. But 
rhetoricians call it an argument^ because it is so 
applied to what was before proposed^ as to be^ 
come the instrument of procuring our assent to 
it. I have mentioned these plain examples only 
for illustration, by which \ve may in some mea^ 
sure perceive the nature and use of arguments. 

But from whence, and by what methods the/ 
are to be sought, I shall now explain. 

A lively imagination and readiness of thought 
are undoubtedly a very great help to invention^ 
Some persons are naturally endued with that 

auickness of fancy and penetration of mind^ 
lat they are seldom at a loss for arguments 
either to defend their own opinions^ or to attack 
their adversaries. However these things being 
the gift of nature, and not to be gained by art, 
do not properly fall under our present consi« 
deration. , 

But because all are not bom with a like happy 
genius, and have not the same opportunity to 
cultivate their minds with learning and know« 
ledge, and because nothing is more difficult 
than to dwell long upon the consideration of one 
thing, in order to find out the strongest ar-» 
euments whichmay.be offered for and against 
jt, — upon these accounts art has prescribed a 
method to lessen in some measure these difficul-* 
ties, and help every one to a supply of argu- 
ments upon any subject. And this is done by 
the contrivance of common places, which Cicen> 



EttETOlUCAL GkAMMAtt. 3I5 

tulb the ieats or heads ^ arguments, ami) by a 
Greek name» topics. They are of two sorts, in-^ 
temal and extemaL As to the former, though 
things with regard to thfeir nature and. proper-^ 
ties are exceedingly various,yet they have certain 
common relations, by means whereof the truth 
of what is either affirmed or denied concerning 
them in any respect may be evinced- The an- 
cient Greefcgrhetoricians therefore reduced these 
relations to sdme general heads; which are term- 
ed common places, because the reasons or argu- 
ments suited to prove any proposition are repo- 
6ited in them, as a common fund or receptacle* 
And they arc called internal heads, because they 
arise from the subject upon which the orator 
treats; and are therefore distinguished from 
others named external, which he fetches from 
without, and applies to his present purpose, as 
will be shown hereafter, Cicero and Quintilian 
make them sixteen; three of which compre- 
hend the whole thing they are brought to prove ; 
namely, Defimtion, Enumeration, and Notation ; 
and of the remaining thirteen some contain a part 
of it, and the rest its various properties and cir- 
cumstances, with other considerations relating 
to it; and these are Genus, Species, Antecedents, 
Consequents, Adjuncts, Conjugates, Cause, Effect, 
Contraries, Opposites, Similitude, Dissimilitude, 
and Comparison. I shall give a brief account of 
each of these, in the order now mentioned. 

Definition explains the nature of the thing 
defined, and shows what it is. And to whatso- 
ever the definition agrees, the thing defined does 
so likewise. If therefore Socrates be a rational 
creature, he is a man ; because it is the defini- 
tion of a man that he is a rational creature 



m kntrtotLtCAL grammar. 

Enumeration takes in all the parts of ^ 
thing. And from this we prove, that what 
agrees to all the part$, agrees to the whole; 
and what does not agree to any one or more 
parts, does not agree to the whole- As when 
Cicera proves to Piso, that all the Roman state 
hated him; by enumerating the several raaksi 
and orders of Roman citizens, whd all did so. 

Notation or Etymology explains the meau*" 
hig or signification of a word* From which we 
reason thus : If he cannot pay his debts^ he is 
insolvent; for that is the meaning of the word 
insolvent. 

Genus is what contains under it two of more 
sorts of things, differing in nature. From thid 
head logicians reason thus : Because every ani* 
mal is mortal, and man is an animal, therefore 
man is mortal. But orators make a further use 
of this argument, which they call ascending 
from the hypothesis to the thesis, that is, from a 
particular to a general. As should a person^ 
when speaking in praise of justice, take occa^ 
sion from thence to commend and show the ex- 
cellency of virtue in general, with a view to ren- 
der that particular virtue more amiable. For 
since every species contains in it the whole na- 
ture of the genus to which it relates, besides 
what is peculiar to itself, whereby it is distin- 
guished from it, — ^what is affirmed of the genus 
must of necessity be applicable to the species. 

Species is that which comprehends under it 
all the individuals of the same nature. From 
hence we may argue : He is a man, therefore 
he has a rational soul. And orators sometimes 
take occasion from this head to descend from the 
thesis to the hypothesis; that is> in treating upoa 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 3it 

what is more general to introduce some particu- 
lar coiitaihed under it, for the greater iUustratiua 
©f the general. / 

Antecedents are such things, as.'being^ 
once allowed^ others necessarily, or veryipro- 
bably, follow. From this .head an .inseparable 
property is proved from its subject : as. It is ma- 
terial, and therefore corruptibly. 

Consequents are such' things, as being aK 
lowed, necessarily, or very probably, infer their 
antecedents. Hence the subject is proved from- 
an inseparable pfoperty,.wii this manner: It is 
corruptible, and therefore material. 

Adjuncts are separable properties of things^ 
or circumstances that attend, them. These are 
very numerous, and afford ar giieat variety of ar- 
guments, some of which usually occur in every 
discourse. They do not necessarily infer their 
subject, but, if fitly chosen, render a thing cre- 
dible, and are a sufficient ground for assent. 
The way of reasoning from them we shall show 
presently. 

Conjugates are words deduced from the 
same origin with that of our subject. By these 
the habit is proved from its acts ; as. He who 
does justly is just. He does not act wisely, there-^ 
fore he is not wise. But this inference will not 
hold, unless the actions appear continued and* 
constant. 

A cause is that, by the force of which a thing 
does exist. There are four kinds of causes,— mat- 
ter, form, efficient and end, which aflford a great 
variety of arguments. The way of reasoning 
from them is to infer the effect from the cause : 
as, Man is endued with reason^ therefore he is 
c:apable of knowledge. 



sit RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

An EFFECT is that ivhich arisesr from 9 
cause^ therefore the cause is proved by it; as^ 
He is eiidued with knowledge, therefore wifl^ 
reason* 

OowTRARiEs are things which, under the 
same genus, are at the utmost distance from each 
other. So that what we grant to the one we 
utterly deny the other: as^^ Virtue ought to b^ 
embraced, therefore vice should be avoided. 

Opposites are such things, which, though 
repugnant to each other, yet are not directly 
contradictory : as, to love and to injure ; to hato 
and to commend. They differ from contraries in 
this, that they do not absolutely exclude (me 
another. An argument is drawn from things re« 
pugnant thus; He will do a man a mischief, 
therefore he does not love him. He loves a man, 
therefore he will not reproach him. 

Similitude is an agreement of things in 
quality. Thus Cicero proves, that pernicious 
citizens ought to be taken out of the state 1 by 
the likeness they bear to corrupted membersji 
which are cut on to prevent further ditmage to 
the body. 

Dissimilitude is ^ disagreement of things 
in quality. From this head Cicero shows the pre* 
ference ofhis own exile to Piso's government of 
Macedonia; by the difference between their 
conduct, and the people's esteem of them, 

Comparison is made three ways : for eitheir 
a thing is compared with a greater^ with a less» 
or with its equal. This place therefore differs 
from that of similitude on this aqcount^ that the 
quality was considered in that, but here the 
quantity. An argument from the greater is thus 
drawn : If five legions could . not conquer thc^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. * 31^ 

enemy, mudh less will two. And by this the 
manner of the rest may be easily conceived. 

I shall just give one e:K:ample somewhat 
larger than I have hitherto done, of the man-* 
ner of reasoning from these heads, whereby tho 
use of them may further appear. If any one 
therefore should have endeavoured to persuade 
Cicero not to accept of his life upon the condi^ 
tion offered him by Antony, — that he would burn 
his Philippic orations, which had been spoken 
against him,«'^he might be supposed to use such^ 
arguments as these; partly taken from the ad- 
juncts of Cicero, partly from those of Antony, 
and partly from the thing itself. And first with 
regard to Cicero it might be said : That so great 
a man ought not to purchase his life at so dear a 
price, as the loss of that immortal honour which, 
by so great pains and labour, he had acquired. 
And this might be confirmed by another argu- 
ment : That now he was grown old, and could 
not expect to live much longer. And from the 
character of Antony he might argue thus : That 
he was very crafty and deceitful, and only de- 
signed, by giving him hopes of life, to have the 
Philippics first burnt, which otherwise he knew 
would transmit to posterity an eternal brand of 
Infamy upon him , and then he would take off 
the author. And this might be shown by com- 
parison : Foi' since he would not spare others, 
who had not so highly exasperated him, and 
from whom he had not so much to fear, cer* 
tainly he would not forgive Cicero, since he 
knew well enough, that, so long as he lived, he 
himself could never be in safety. And lastly 
an argument might also be fetched from the na- 
tur? of the thing itself in the following manner; 






320 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

That Cicei-o by this action would shamefulh^ 
betray the state, and the cause of liberty, whicn 
be.had, through his whole life, most courageously 
defended, with so great honour to himself, and 
advantage to the public. Upon such an account 
a person might have used these, or the like argu- 
ments with Cicdro, which arise from the fore* 
mentioned heads. 

From this account oi Common Places it is easy 
to conceive what a large field of discourse they 
open to the mind upon every subject. These 
different considerations furnish out a great num- 
ber and variety of arguments, sufficient to sup- 
ply the most barren invention. He can never be 
at a loss for matter who considers well the na- 
ture of his subject, the parts of which it con-* 
sists, the circymstances which attend it, the 
causes from whence it springs, the effects it 
produces, its agreement, disagreejment, or re- 
pugnancy to other things,— and in like manner 
carries it through all the remaining heads. But 
although this method will assist us very much to 
enlarge upon a subject, and place it in different 
views^ yet a prudent man is not so desirous to 
say a great deal as to speak to the purpose, and 
therefore will make choice of proper arguments, 
and such only which have a direct tendency to 
confirm or illustrate his subject. And for this end 
it is necessary for him to gain first a thorough 
knowledge of his subject, and then arguments 
will naturally spring up in his mind proper to 
support it; and if he be still at a loss, and find oc- 
casion to have recourse to these heads, he will 
readily perceive from whence to take tho$o 
which aj*e best suited to his purpose. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 321 



Of external Topics. 

The nature and design of Commori Places 
have been shown already ; and a particular ac- 
count of those whichj because they are taken 
from the subject matter of a discourse, are there- 
fore called internal^ has likewise been given* 
But the orator sometimes reasons from such to- 
pics as do not arise from his subject, but fronr 
things of a different nature, and for that reason 
are called external. And because the former 
are more properly invented by him, and the 
effect of his art, Aristotle calls theni artificial 
topicSy and the latter inartificial. But as they 
both require skill in the management, Quinti- 
lian very much blames those who take no notice 
of these latter, but exclude them from the art of 
rhetoric. I propose, therefore, to make them the 
subject of my present discourse, and show the 
methods of reasoning from them. They are all 
taken from authorities, and are, by one general 
name, called Testimonies. 

Now a Testimony may be expressed by wri* 
iting, speech, or any other sign proper to declare 
*a person's mind. And all testimonies may bi 
distinguished into two sorts, divine ajid human, 
Jk divine testimony^ when certainly known to 
-be such, is incontestable, and admits of no .der 
-bate, but should be acquiesced in without hesir 
tation. Indeed, the ancient Greeks andRomaas 
esteemed the , pretended oracles of their deities, 
the answers of their augurs, and the like falla- 
cies, divine testimonies. But with us, no one can 
be ignorant of their true notion, though they do 
,not so directly come under our present conai- 

Y 



322. •rhetorical grammar. 

deration. Human Testimonies are of various 
kinds ; but as they furnish the orator with argu- 
ments (in which view I am now to consider 
them), they may be reduced to three heads ^ 
WritzTigs^ Witnesses, and Contracts. 

By Writings here are to be understood written 
laws, wiUs, or other legal instruments, expres- 
sed and conveyed in that mariner. And it is not 
so much the force and validity of such testimo* 
xiies, considered in themselves, that is here in- 
tended, as the occasion of dispute which may 
at any time arise concerning their true design 
and import, when produced ip proof upon either 
side of a controversy. And these are five; Ambi* 
guiti/y Disagreement between the words and intend 
tiony Co7itrariety, Eeasoning, and Interpretation. 
I shall «peak to each of these in their order. 

A writing is then said to be nmbiguaus^ when 
it is capable of two or more senses, wliich 
makes tne writer's design uncertain. Now am-^ 
biguity may arise either from singk w^rds, or 
the construction of sentences. From single 
words; as when either the sense of a word, or 
the applicati(m of it, is doubtful. As: should 
it be qitestionedy whether ready money ought to 
ie included under the aj^llation of chattels left 
hy a wiil. Or : if a testator bequeath a cer*- 
tain legacy to his nephew Thomas, and lie has 
two nephews (f that name. But ambiguity is 
also sotnetimes occasioned from the x^onstruc- 
lion of a aeptence ; as when several things, jot 
persons having been already mentioned, it is. 
/doubtful ta which of them that which follows 
ought to be referred. For example: a person 
writes thus in his will: Let my heir give as a 
^S^<^. ^ Titius^ ^an horse otU of my stable y wbicih 



JtH£TORiCAL GRAMMAjl. 3^3 

he please. Here it may be questioned whe- 
ther the word hi refers to the heir, or to Ti- 
tius; and consequently, whether the heir be 
allowed to give Titius which horse he please^ 
or Titius may choose which he likes best. Now 
.as to controversies of this kind, in the first 
case above mentioned, the party who claims 
the chattels may plead, that all moveable goods 
come under that name, and therefore that he 
has a right to the money. This he will eQ- 
deavour to prove from some instauic^es where the 
word has been so used. The business o^ $h^ 
opposite party is to refute this, by shqwing'that 
money is not there included- And if either side 
produce precedents in his favour, the other may 
endeavour to show the cases are not par^lleL 
As to the second case, arising from an ambi- 
guity in the name, if any other words or expres- 
sions in the will seem to countenance either o£ 
-the claimants, he will not fail jto interpret them 
to his advantage. So likewise if any thing sai4 
by the testator, in his life-time, or any rewar4 
shown to either of these nephews mpre than the 
other, may help to determine which pf thenp 
was intended, a proper use may be made of it. 
And the same may be said with regard to the 
third case. In which the legatee xoay rejispa 
likewise from the common use of language, ^q^ 
show, that in such expressions it is unusual tQ 
make the refexence to the last or next anite* 
cedent; and from thence plead, that it was th<j 
design of the testator to give him the option. 
But in answer to this it may be said, that allowr 
ing it to be very often so, yet in this instance it 
^eems more easy and natural to repeat the verb 
giue after ple^ise, and so to supply the s^ntenQe^ 

Y2. 



324 RHETORICAL ORAMMAR. 

zvhtc/i he please to give him^ referring it to the 
heir j than to bring in the verb choosey which 
was not. in the sentence before, and so by sup- 
plying the sense, which he please to choose^ to 
give the option to Titius. But where contro- 
versies of this kind arise from a law, recourse 
may be had to other laws, where the same thing 
has been expressed with greater clearness, which 
may help to determine the sense of the passage 
in dispute, 

A second controversy from Writings is, when 
one party adheres to the zvords, and the other to 
what he asserts was the writer's intention. Now 
he who opposes the literal sense, either contends, 
that what he himself offers is the simple and 
plain meaning of the writing, or that it must be 
so understood in the particular case in debate. 
An instance of the former is this, as we find k 
in Cicero. A person who died without children, 
but left a widow, had made this provision in his 
will : If 1 have a son born to me, he shall be 
my heir. And a little after: If my son die, 
before he comes of age, let Curius be my heir. 
There is no son born, Curius therefore sues for 
the estate, and pleads the intention of the testa- 
tor, who designed him for his heir if he should 
have no son who arrived at age ; and says, there 
can bie no reason to suppose he did not intend 
the same person for his heir if he had no son, as 
if he should have one who afterwards died in 
his minority. But the heir at law insists upon 
the words of the will, which, as he says, require 
that first a son should be born, and afterwards 
<lie under age, before Curius can succeed to the 
inheritance. And there being no son, a substi^ 
tuted heir, as Curius was, can have no claino^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 335 

where the first heir does not exist, from whom 
he derives his pretension, and was to succeed by 
the appointment of the will. Of the latter case 
rhetoricians give this example : It was forbid^ 
den by a law to open the city gates in the night. 
A certain person^ notwithstanding , in time of zvar 
did open them in the nighty and let in some aux- 
iliary troops y to prevent their being cut off by the 
enemy y who was posted near the totvn. After- 
wards, when the war was over, this person 
is arraigned, and tried for his life on the ac- 
count of this action. Now in such a casie the 
prosecutor founds his charge upon the express 
words of the law; and pleads that no sufficient 
reason can be assigned for going contrary to the 
letter of it, which would be to make a new law, 
and not to execute one already made. The defen- 
dant on the other hand alleges, that the fact he 
is charged with cannot however come within 
the intention of the law ; since he either could 
not, or ought not to have complied with the 
letter of it in that particular case, which must 
therefore necessarily be supposed to have beeii 
excepted in the design of that law, when it was 
made. But to this the prosecutor may reply ^ 
that all such exceptions, a&are intended by any 
law, are usually expressed in it: and instances 
may be brought of particular exceptions ex- 
pressed in some laws; and if there be any such 
exception in the law under debate, it should 
especially be mentioned. He may further add, 
that to admit of exceptions not expressed ia the 
law itself, is to enfcrvate the force of all laws by 
explaining them away, and in eifect to render 
them useless. And this he may further corro- 
bprate by comparing the law under debate with 

y3 



326 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

others, and considering its nature and impor* 
tance, and how far the public interest of the 
state is concerned in the due and regular exe^ 
cution of it; from whence he may infer, that 
should exceptions be admitted in other laws of 
less consequence, yet, however, they ought not 
in this. Lastly, he may consider the reason al- 
leged by the aefendant, on which he founds his 
plea, and show there was not that necessity of 
violating the law in the present case as is pre- 
tended. And this is often the more requisite, 
because the 'party who disputes against the 
words of the law always endeavours to support 
his allegations from the equity of the case. If, 
therefore, this plea can be enervated, the main 
support of the defendant's cause h removed. 
For as the former arguments are designed to 
prevail with the judge to determine the mattet 
<Jn this side the question, from the nature of the 
case, — so the intention of this argument is to in-r 
duce him to it, from the weakness of the de-r 
fence made by the opposite party. But the de- 
fendant will on the contrary' use such argu- 
rnents as may best demonstrate the equity of 
his catise, and endeaVour to vindicate the fact 
from his good design and intention in doing it. 
He will say, that the laws have allotted punish^ 
ments for the commission of such facts as are evil 
in themselves, or prejudicial to others ; nei- 
ther of which can be charged upon the action 
for which he -is accused : that no law can be 
rightly executed, if more regard be had to the 
words and syllables of the writing, than to the 
intention of the legislator. To which purpose 
he may allege that direction of the law itself, 
vyhich says ; The law ought not to be too ri-r 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 3i1 

gorotisb/ interpretedy nor the words of it strain^ 
ed; but the true intention and design of each 
part of it duly considered. As also, that say- 
ing of Cicero : What law may not be weaken- 
ed and destroyed, if xve bend the sense to the 
words, .and do not regard the design and view 
of the legislator ? Hence he may take occa- 
sion to complain of the hardship of such a 
procedure, that no difference should be made 
between an audacious and wilful crime and 
an honest or necessary action, which might 
happen to disagree with the letter of the law, 
though not with the intent of it. And as it was 
observed before (o be of considerable service to 
the accuser, if he could remove the defendant's 
plea of equity, — so it will be of equal advantage 
to the defendant, if he can fix upon any words 
in the law which may in the least seem to coun- 
tenance his case, since this will take off the 
main force of the charge. 

The third controversy of this kind is^ when 
two writings happen to clash with each other, 
or at least seem to do so. Of this Hermogenea 
gives the following instance. One law en- 
joins : Hcy who continues alone in a ship during 
a tempesty shall have the property of the ship. 
Another law says : A disinheinted son s/iall en^ 
joy no part of his father's estate. Now a son, 
who had been disinherited by his father, hap- 
pens to be in his father's ship an a tempest, 
and continues there alone, when every one else 
had deserted it. He claims the ship by the 
former of these laws, and his brother tries his 
right with him by the latter. In such c^ses 
therefore it may first be considered, whether the 
two laws can be reconciled. And if that cannot 

Y 4 . 



«2« RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

be doiie, then which of them appears more equi- 
table. Also whether one be positive, and the 
other negative ; because prohibitions are a sort 
of exceptions to positive injunctions. Or if one 
.be a general law, — and the other more particu* 
lar, and come nearer to the matter in question. 
Likewise which was last made: since former 
laws are often abrogated, either wholly or in 
part, by subsequent laws ; or at least were de^ 
signed to be so. Lastly, it may be observed, 
whether one of the laws be not plain and ex-^ 
press, and the other more dubious, or has any 
ambiguity in it. All or any of which things that 
party will not omit to improve for his advantage, 
whose interest is concerned in it. 

The fourth controversy is Reasoning : as when 
something not expressly provided for by a law 
is inferred by similitude, or parity of reason, from 
what is contained in it. Quintilian mentions 
this instance of it: There was a laic made at 
Tarentum to prohibit the exportation 6f wool, 
hut a certain person exports sheep. In this case 
the prosecutor may first compare the thing, 
which occasions the charge, with the words of 
the law, and show their agreement, and how 
unnecessary it was that particular thing should 
have been expressly mentioned in the law, since 
it is plainly contained in it, or at least an evident 
consequence from it. He may then plead that 
many things of a like nature are omitted in 
other laws for the same reason: and, lastly, 
he may urge the reasonableness, and equity of 
the procedure. The defendant on the other 
hand will endeavour to show the deficiency of 
the reasoning, and the diflrerence between the 
two cases. He will insist upon the plain and 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. • 32B 

express words of the law, and set forth the iU 
tendency of such inferences, and conclusions 
drawn from similitudes and comparisons; since 
there is scarce any thing but in some respect 
may bear a resemblance to another. 

The last controversy under this head is Inter- 
pretatiouy in which the dispute turns upon the 
true meaning and explication of the law, in re- 
ference to that particular case. We have tfie 
following instance of this in the Pandects: A 
man who had two sons, both under age, substi- 
tutes Titius as heir to him zvho should die last, 
provided both of them died in their minority. 
They both perish together at sea, before they 
came to age. Here arises a doubt, whether the 
substitution can take place, or the inheritance 
devolves to the heir at law. The latter pleads, 
that as neither of them can be said to have 
died last, the substitution cannot take place, 
which was suspended upon the condition, that 
one died after the other. But to this it may be 
said, it was the intention of the testator, that, 
if both died in their nonage, Titius should suc- 
ceed to the inheritance ; a^d therefore it makes; 
no difference whether they died together, or one 
after the other; and so the law determines it. 

The second head of external arguments are 
Witnesses. These may either give their evidence, 
when absent, in writing subscribed with their 
name; or present, by word of mouth. And 
what both of them testify, may either be from 
hear-say, or what they saw themselves, and 
were present at the time it was done. As the 
weight of the evidence may be thought greater 
or less on each of these accounts, either party 
will mstke such use qf it as he finds for his ao- 



»30 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

vantage. The characters of ^the witnesses arc 
also to be considered; and if any thing be found 
in their Jives or behaviour that is justly excep- 
tionable to invalidate their evidence, it ought 
not to be omitted. And how they are affected 
to the contending parties, or either of them, 
may deserve consideration ; for some allowances 
may be judged reasonable in case of friendship, 
or enmity, where there is no room for any other 
exception. But regard should chiefly be had to 
what they testify, and how far the cause is affect- 
ed by it. Cicero is very large upon most of these 
heads in his defence of Marcus Fonteius, with 
a design to weaken the evidence of the Gauls 
against him. And where witnesses are produced 
#n one side only, as orators sometimes attempt 
to lesson the credit of this kind of proof, by 
pkading that witnesses are liable to be corrupt- 
ed ot biassed by some prevailing interest or pas- 
sion to which arguments taken from the nature 
^nd circumstances of things are not subject, it 
may be answered on the other hand, that sophis- 
tical arguments, and false colourings, are not ex- 
posed to infamy or punishment, whereas wit- 
nesses are restrained by shame and penalties, nor 
would the law require them if they were not 
necessary. 

The third and last head of external argimaents 
are Contracts y . which may be either public or 
private. By public are meant the transactions 
between different states, as leagues, alliances, 
and the like ; which depend on the laws of na- 
tions, and come more properly under delibera- 
tive discourses, to which I shall refer them. 
Those are called private which relate to lesser 
l)odies or societies oi men, and single persons ; 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 331 

and may be either written er verbal. And it is 
not so much the trtie meaning and purport of 
them, that is here considered, as their force and 
obligation. And as the Roman law declares, 
Nothing can be more agreeable to human faith 
than that persons should stand to their agree- 
ments, — therefore in controversies of this kind, 
the party whose interest it is that the con- 
tract should be maintained will plead that such 
covenants have the force of private laws, and 
ought religiously to be observed, since the com- 
mon affairs of mankind are transacted in that 
manner ; and therefore to violate them is to de- 
stroy all commerce and society among men. 
On the other side it may be said, that justice 
and equity are chiefly to be regarded, which are 
immutable. And besides, that the public laws 
are the common rule to determine such diffe-- 
rences, which are designed to redress those who 
are aggrieved. And, indeed, where a compact 
has been obtained by force or fraud, it is in itself 
void, and has no effect either in law or reason. 
But on the other hand, the Roman lawyets seem 
to have very rightly determined, that all such, 
obligations as are founded in natural equity, 
though not binding by national laws, and are 
therefore called nuda pacta, ought, however, in 
honour and conscience, to be performed. 

Thus I have gone through the common heads 
of invention, both internal and external, which 
may be of service to an orator, when his view id 
to inform his hearers, and prove the truth of what 
he asserts. But the particular application of 
them, to the several sorts of discourses he may 
have Qccassion to treat upoti, J shall now pro* 
(:eed to explain* 



332 RHETOIIICAL 6RAMMAR- 



Of the State of a Controversy. 

The- ancients observing, that the principal 
question or point of dispute, in all controversies, 
might be referred to some particular head, re- 
duced those heads to a certain number; that 
both the nature of the question might by that 
m^ans be better known, and the arguments 
suited to it be discovered with greater ease. 
And these heads they call States. 

By the State of a Controvei^sy then we are to 
understand the principal point in dispute be- 
tween contending parties, upon the proof of 
which the whole cause or controversy depends. 
We find it expressed by several other names 
in ancient writers : as. The constitution of the 
cause, The general head, and The chief question. 
And as this is the principal thing to be attended 
to in every such discourse, so it is what first re- 
quires the consideration of the speaker, and 
should be well fixed and digested in his mind 
before he proceeds to look for arguments proper 
to support it. For what can be more absurd, 
than for a person to attempt the proof of any 
thing before he has well settled in his own 
inind a clear and distinct notion what the thing 
is which he would endeavour to prove : Quin- 
tilian describes it to be. That kind of gues- 
tion which arises from the first conflict of causes^ 
In. judicial cases it immediately follows upon 
the charge of the plaintiff, and plea of the der 
fendant. Our common l^w expresses it by 
one word, namely, the Issue: which interpre- 
ters explain, by describing it to be, That point 
of matter depending in suit, tvhereupon t}\e pg.r^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR; 3» 

ties join, anil put their catise to the trial. Ex* 
amples will further help to illustrate this, and 
render it more evident. In the cause of Milo^ 
the charge of the Clodian party is, Milo kill-' 
ed Clodius. Milo's plea or defence, / killed 
him, but justly. From hence arises this grand 
question, or state^^of the cause: Whether it 
was latvful for Mild to kill Chdius ? And that 
Clodius was lawfully killed by Milo, is what 
Cicero in his defence of Milo principally em 
deavours to prove. This is the main subjiect 
. of that fine and beautiful oration. The wholi 
of his discourse is to be considered as cen- 
tering at last in this one point. Whatever 
different matters are occasionally mentioned; 
will, if closely attended to, be found to have 
been introduced some way or other, the better 
to support and carry on this design. Novir in 
such cases, where the fact is not denied, but 
something is offered in its defence, the state of 
the cause is taken from the defendant's plea, 
who is obliged to make it good. As in the in- 
stance here given, the chief point in dispute was 
the lawfulness of Milo's action, which it was 
Cicero's business to demonstrate. But when the 
• defendant denies the fact, the state of the cause 
arises from the accusation ; the proof of which 
then lies upon the plaintiff, and not, as in the 
former case, upon the defendant. So in the 
camse of Roscius, the charge made against him 
is. That he killed his fattier. But he denies 
the fact. The grand question therefore to be 
argued is: Whether or not he kiUed his fa- 
ther} The proof of this lay upon the ac- 
cusers. And Cicero's design in the defence of 
him is to show, that they had not .made good 



S5^ RHETORICAL ORAMMML 

dieir charge: But k sometimes happens, that 
the defendant neither absolutely denies the fact, 
nor attempts to justify it; but only endeavours 
to qualify it, by denymg that it is a crime of that 
nature, or deserves Aat name by which it is ex* 
pressed in the charge. We have an example of 
this proposed by Cicero:.) if person is accused 
fif sacrilege J for taking a thing that was saa-ed, 
out of a privaLe house. He owns the fact, but 
denies it to be sacrilege ; since it was commit- 
ted in a private house ^ and not in a temple. 
Hence this question arises : Whether to take a 
sacred thing out of a private house is to be deem- 
ed sacrilege y or only simple theft? It Kes upon 
Ac accuser to prove, what tiie other denies; 
and, therefore, the state of the cause is here 
also, as well as in the preceding case, taken 
from the indjltement. 

But besides the principal questioi?', there are 
other subordinate questions, which foJldwupoa 
it in the course of a dispute, and should l)e care- 
fully distinguished from it; particularly that 
which arises from the reason or argument which 
is brought in proof of the principal question. 
For the principal question xtseif proves no- 
thing, but is the thing to be proved, and be- 
iComes at last the conclusion of the discourse. 
Thus in the cause of Milo, his argument is : 
/ killed Cladins justly y because he assassinated 
<me. Unless the Clodian party be supposed 
to deny this, they give up their cause. From 
hence therefore this subordinate question fol- 
lows : Whether Clodms assassinated Milo ? Now 
Cicero spends much time in the proof of 
•this, as 'the hinge on which the first ques- 
tion, and consequently the whole cause, depen- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. sas 

ded. For if thi^ was once made to appear^ th^ 
lawfulness of MiJo' s killaig C)odius, which was 
the giand question or thing tp h^ prpyed, oughts 
be inferred, as an idlo w^d <?Qh^u^acejfiroi3a it* 
This will be evident, by throwing Milp'^ argi*r 
ment^ as used by Cicero, into the form of a sy]r 

An assassinator is lazvfully kitted: 
Clodius zCas an assassinator: 
Therefore he zvas lazvfully kitted by JtfUo, 
zvhom he assassinated.' 

If the minor proposition of tW^ syllogism wa* 
granted, no one would d^ny the concliis^iQn ; for 
thi^ Roman law allowed of self-defence. But a$ 
Cicero was very sensible this would not' be ad- 
mitted, so he takes much pains to bring t^he ^puft 
into the belief of it. Now where the argm»e»t 
brought in defence of the seicond • question ij 
contested^ or the orator suppose thai it may b> 
80, and therefore jsupports that with another s^r 
gument, this occasions a thitd iquesti^n conse- 
quent upon the former; and in like manner ht 
may proceed to a fourth. But be they more ojr 
fewer, they are to be oon^idered but ^^ om 
chain of subordinate questions dependent t^poti 
the first. An4 though each of them has its pai^ 
ticalar state, yet none of these i3 what rhetori- 
cians call The State of the Ca$i^e, which is to be 
understood only of the principal qfuestion. And 
if, as it frequently happens, the first or pri^cipaji 
question is itself directly proved from moj;e tha» 
one aigijunent, this makes no other diflfer^PiC^, 
-but that each of these arguments, so far as they 
MS followed by others to support thejmrbecome 
<g distinct series of suboordinate questiojis^ all de^ 



SS6 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

Sendent upon the first. As when Cicero en- 
eavours to prove, that Roscius did not kill his 
father from two reasons or arguments ; — 6e- 
cause he had neither any cause to move him to 
such a barbarous action, nor any opportunity 

for it. 

Moreover, besides these subordinate ques-* 
tions, there are also- incidental ones often intro- 
duced, which have some reference to the princi- 
pal question, and contribute towards the proof 
of it, though they are not necessarily connected 
with it, or dependent upon it. And each of 
these also has its State, though different from 
that of the Cause. For every question, or point 
of controversy, must be stated, before it can ht 
made the subject of disputation. And it is for 
this reason that every new argument advanced 
by an orator is called a question, because it is 
considered as a fresh matter of controversy. In 
Cicero's defence of Milo we meet with several 
of this sort of questions, occasioned by some 
aspersions which had been thrown out by the 
Clodian party to the prejudice of Milo. As^ 
T7iat he was unworthy to see the light who 
owned he had killed a man. For Milo before 
•his trial had openly confessed he killed Clodius; 
So likewise. That the senate had declared tht 
killing of Clodius was an illegal action. And 
further. That Pompey, by making a nezv law 
to settle the manner of MiWs trialy had given 
his judgment against Milo. Now to each of 
these Cicero replies, before he proceeds to the 
■principal question. And therefore, though the 
question, in which the state of a controversy 
consists, is said by Quintilian to arise from 
ihe ^ first conflict of causes, y^t we find by this 



Rhetorical grammar. 337 

instance of Cicero that it is not always the 
first question in order upon which the orator 
treats. 

But it sometimes happens that the same 
cause or controversy contains in it more than 
one state. Thus in judicial causes every di- 
stinct charge occasions a new state. All Cicero's 
orations against Verres relate to one cause, 
founded upon a law of the Romans against un- 
just exactions made by their governors of pro-^ 
vinces upon the inhabitants; but as that prosecu- 
tion is made up of as many charges as there are 
orations, every charge or inditement has its dif- 
ferent state. So likewise his oration in defence 
of Coelius has two states, in answer to a double 
charge made against him by his adversaries: 
one, for borrowing money of Clodia, in order to 
bribe certain slaves to kill a foreign embassador; 
and the other, for an attempt afterward to poi* 
son Clodia herself. Besides which there were 
also several other matters of a less heinous na- 
ture, which had been thrown upon him by 
his accusers, with a design, very likely, to ren- 
der the two principal charges more credible ; to 
which Cicero first replies in the same manner 
as in his defence of Milo, 

Though all the examples we have hitherto 
brought to illustrate this subject have been 
taken from judicial cases, yet not only these, 
but very frequently discourses of the delibera- 
tive kind, and sometimes those of the demon- 
strative, are managed in a controversial way. 
And all controversies iiave their state. And, 
therefore, Q,uintilian very justly observes, that 
states belong both to general and particular 
questions 9 and tv all sorts qf causes demonstra- 



338 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

live, deliberaiive, andjudiciaL In Cicero's ora- 
tion for the Manilian law, this is the main point 
in dispute between him and those who op- 
posed that law : Whether Pompey was the ^fittest 
person to be intrusted with the management of 
the war against Mithridates? This is a sub* 
ject of the deliberative kind. And of the same 
nature was that debate in the senate concern- 
ing the demolition of Carthage. For the mat- 
ter in dispute between Cato, who argued for 
it, and those who were of the contrary opi- 
nion, seems to have been this: Whether it xvas 
for the interest of the Romans to demolish Car- 
thage? 

As to the number of these stat^iS^ both Cicero 
and Quintilian reduce them to three. I shall 
recite- Quintilian's reason which he gives for 
this opinion. We must, says he, agree with 
those zvhose authority Cicero follows, who tell 
us that three things viay be. inquired into in 
all disputes ; whether a thing is, zvkat it is, and 
how it is. And this is the method zvhich nature 
prescribes. For in the first place it is necessa- 
ry the thing should exist, about which the dis- 
pute is: because no judgment can be made either 
of its nature or quality till its existence be mat 
nifest; which is therefore the first question. But 
though it be manifest that a thing is, it does ?iot 
presently appear what it is; and when this is 
knowny the quality yet remains : and after these 
three are settled, ru> further inquiry is neces- 
sary. Thus far duintilian. Now the first of these 
three states is called the conjectural state; as 
if it be inquired. Whether one person killed ano- 
ther. This always follows upon the denial of 
a fact by one of the parties, as was the. case of 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 339 

Roscius. And it receives its name from hence, 
that the judge is left, as it were, to conjecture 
whether the fact was really committed or not, 
from the evidenqe produced on the other side. 
The second is called the defijiitive state, when 
the fact is not denied, but the dispute tufns 
upon the nature of it, and what name is proper 
tp give it ; as in that example of Cicero : Whe* 
ther to take a sacred thing out, of a private 
house be theft or sacrilege? For in this case 
it is necessary. to settle the distinct notion of 
those two crimes, 3nd show their difference. 
The third is called the state of quality, when the 
contending parties are agreed both as to the fact, 
and the nature of it; but the dispute is: Whe- 
ther it be just or unjusty profitable or unprofit- 
iahlCy and the like: as in the cause of Milo. Aris- 
totle, and from him Vossius, add a fourth state, 
namely of quantity j as; Whether an injury be 
so great as it is said to be. But Quintilian 
thinks this may be referred to some or other of 
the preceding states ; si^ce it depends upon the 
circumstances of the fact, as the intention, time, 
place, or the like. 

From what has been said upon this subject, 
the use of it may in a good measure appear. For 
whoever engages in a controversy ought in the 
first place to consider with himself the main 
question in dispute, to fix it well in his mind, 
and keep it constantly in his view; without which, 
he will be very liable to ramble from the point, 
and bewilder both himself and his hearers. And> 
it is no less the business of the hearers principal- 
ly to attend to this ; by which means they will 
be helped to distinguish and separate from the. 
principal question what is only incidental, and 

z2 



840 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

to observe how far the principal question U ^f- 
fected by it ; to perceive what is offered iti proof, 
and what is only brought in for illustration ; not 
to be misled by digressions, but to discern 
when the speaker goes off" from his subject, and 
when he returns to it again ; and, in a \*^ord, to 
accompany him through the whole discourse, 
and carry with them the principal chain of rea-s 
soning upon which the cause depends, so as to 
judge upon the whole whether he has made out 
his point, ahd the conclusion follows from the 
premises. The necessity of ihis is generally the 
greater in proportion to the leiigthof a discourse, 
however exact and artful the composition may 
be. They, who have read Cicero's orations with 
care, cannot but know, that although they 
are formed in the most beautiful manner, and 
wrought up with the greatest skill, yet the mat- 
ter of them is often so copious, the arguments 
^o numerous, the incidents either to conciliate 
or move his audience so frequent, and the di- 
gressions so agreeable, ^hat without the closest 
attention it is many times no easy matter to keep 
his main design in view. A constant and fixed 
regard therefore to the state of the cause and 
principal point in dispute is highly necessary 
to this end. But though rhetoricians treat of 
these states only as they relate to controversies, 
and become the subject matter of dispute be- 
tween differing parties, yet every discourse has 
one or' more principal heads, which the speaker 
chiefly proposes to prove or illustrate. And 
therefore what has been said upon this subject 
may likewise be considered as proper to be at- 
tended to in all discourses. 

I have only to add, that hitherto I have treat- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. ,.. 

cd of the nature and use of the three states so far 
as relates to them in general; a more particular 
account of them, with the arguments which are 
properly suited to each state, will be next con" 
sidered. 

Of Arguments suited to demonstrative 

Discourses. 

The general method of deducing Arguments 
from Common Places has been already explain- 
ed. But more fully to show the use of this sub- 
ject, and the assistance it affords the orator, it 
may not be improper separately to consider the 
particular heads which are more especially suit- 
ed to the several kinds of discourses. These' are 
subordinate to the former, and spring from them 
like branches from the same stock, or rivulets 
from a common fountain ; as will evidently ap- 
pear when we come to explain them. 

This is what I propose to enter upon at pre- 
sent, and shall begm with those which relate 
to demonstrative discourses. And as these con- 
sist either in praise or dispraise, agreeably to the 
nature of all contraries, one ^ of tnem will serve 
to illustrate the other. Thus he who knows 
what Arguments are proper to prove the excel- 
lency of virtue, and commend it to our esteem, 
cannot be much at a loss for such as will show 
the odious nature of vice, and expose it to every 
one's abhorrence ; since they are all taken from 
the same heads, and directly the reverse of each 
other. In treating therefore upon the topics 
suited to this kind of discourses, I need only 
mention, those which are requisite for praise j 
from whence sugh as are proper for dispraise 
will easily gnow^h be discovered. 

z 3 



342 RHETORICAL*ORAMMAR. 

Now we praise either persons or things : unr 
der which division all beings with their properr 
tics and circumstances may be comprehended, 
so as to" take in whatever belongs either to na- 
ture or art. But in each part of the division I 
shall confine my discourse principally to those 
subjects relating to social lire, in which oratory 
is more usually conversant. And under the 
former head which respects, persons or intelli-: 
gent beings,' I shall only speak of men. The 
ancient sophists among the Greeks in their lau- 
datory speeches seem rather to have studied how 
to display their own eloquence, than to make 
them serve any valuable purposes in life; for 
their characters were so heightened, like poeti- 
cal images, as suited them more to excite won- 
der and surprise than to become the proper 
subjects of imitation. Apd for this reason Aris- 
totle excludes them from the number or civil 
discourses, or such as relate to the affairs of so- 
ciety. Though if we consider their nature rather 
than the abuse of them, they appear to be very 
proper subjects for an orator, and to come with- 
in the main design of his province, which is per-; 
suasion. For to what purpose can eloquence 
be better employed than to celebrate virtuous 
piersons or actions, in such a planner as to excite 
mankind to their imitation, which is the proper 
end pf such discourses. And, indeed, the pancr 
gyrics of the Greeks, which were pronounced in 
the general assemblies of their several states, 
seem to have been designed to recommend virtue 
by so public a testimony, as appears by that of 
Isocrates in the praise of the Athenians. For as 
to the invectives pf Demosthenes against king 
Philip, they are rather of the deliberative kind^ 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 343 

and so do not come under our present consider 
ration ; since the orator's principal view in those 
discourses is to animate the Atnenians in a de* 
fence of their liberties, by a vigorous prosecu-^ 
tion of the v^ar against king Philip ; to which 
end he likewise proposes the fittest methods for 
carrying it on with success. And most of 
Cicero's invectives again^st Mark Anthony may 
be referred to the same kind of discourses. But 
as it is evident, from common observation, that 
men are more influenced by examples than pre-» 
cepts, so the celebrating virtue, and exposing 
vice, from particular instances in human life, as 
patterns to others in what they ought to pursue, 
find what to avoid, has by wise men been gene- 
rally esteemed very serviceable to mankind. 
For which reason likewise the transmitting to 
posterity the lives of great and eminent men has 
met with good acceptance, as a useful and lau- 
dable design. And therefore the Romans, who 
>vere sensible that such discourses were not only 
suited for entertainment, but might likewise be 
made very useful to the public, did not confine 
them to the schools of rhetoricians and the ex- 
ercises pf young persons : for it was their cus- 
tom, as Quintjlian tells us, to have them pro- 
pounced in public assemblies, even, by magis- 
trates, and sometimes by an order from the 
senate. So we read, that a funeral oration was 
spoken in honour of Junius Brutus by Publi-^ 
cola, his colleague in the consulship. And alike 
discourse, with a statue and public funeral, was 
decreed by the senate to the honour of M. Ju- 
ventius. Though afterwards indeed we general- 
ly find this oflSce performed by some relation. 
Ip compliance with which custom, as Suetoniua 

z4 



344 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

relates, Augustus, when but twelve y^ars of age, 
pronounced a funeral discourse in praise of his 
grandmother Julia. And Tiberius, when but 
nine years old, paid the like honour to his de- 
ceased father, as the same historian informs us. 
And Cicero's invective against Piso, with his se- . 
cond against Mark Anthony, may be referred to 
demonstrative discourses, as they respect things 
that were past, and so could not then be sub- 
jects for consultation. For all praise or dispraise 
must either regard what is past or present. And, 
generally speaking, persons are most affected 
by present things. Indeed the encomiums of 
ancient heroes, and their famous actions, are 
very entertaining, and afford an agreeable plea- 
sure in the recital; but such examples of virtue, 
as are still in being, or at least yet fresh in me- 
mory, have the greatest influence for imita- 
tion. 

But in praising or dispraising persom, rheto- 
ricians prescribe two methods. One is, to fol- 
low the order in which every thing happened 
that is mentioned in the discourse ; the other is, 
to reduce what is said under certain general 
heads, without a strict regard to the order of 
time. 

In pursuing the former method, the discourse 
may be very conveniently divided into three 
periods. The first of which will contain what 
preceded the person's birth; the second, the 
whole course of his life; and the third, what 
followed upon his death. 

Under the first of these may be comprehend- 
ed what is proper to be said concerning his 
country and family. And, therefore, if these 
Tvere honourable, it may be said to his advan- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 345 

tege, that he no ways disgraced them, but acted 
suitably to such a descent. But if they were not 
so, they may be either wholly omitted, or it may 
be said, that instead of deriving thence any ad- 
vantage to his character, he has conferred a last- 
ing honour upon them ; and that it is not of so 
much moment where or from whom a person 
derives his birth, as how he lives. 

In the second period, which is that of his life, 
the qualities both of his mind and body, with his 
circumstances in the world, may be separately con- 
sidered. Though as Quintilia n rightly observes : 
All external advantages are not praised for them* 
selves y but according to the use that is made of them. 
For richeSy and power y and inttresty as they have 
great influence and may be applied either to good or 
bad purposes y are aproofofthe temper of our minds^ 
and therefore we are either made better or worse 
by them. But these things are a just ground for 
commendation -when they are the reward of vir- 
tue or industry. Bodily endowments are, health, 
strength, beauty, activity, and the like; which 
are more or less comniendable, according as 
they are employed. And where these, or any 
of them, are wanting, it may be shown that they 
are abundantiy compensated by the more valua- 
ble endowments of the mind. Nay, sometimes 
a defect in these may give an advantageous 
turn to a person's character, for any virtue ap- 
pears greater in proportion to the disadvantages 
the person laboured under in exerting it. But 
the chief topics of praise are taken from the vir- 
tues and qualifications of the mind. And here 
the orator may consider the disposition, educa- 
tion, learning, and several virtues, which shotie 
through the whole course of the person's life : 



S46 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

in doings which, the preference should slwzyn 
be given to virtue^ above knowledge, or any 
other accomplishment. And in actions, those 
are most considerable, and will be heard with 
greatest approbation, which a person either did 
alone, or first, or wherein he had fewest associ^ 
ates; as likewise those which exceeded expec- 
tation, or were done for the advantage of others, 
rather th'an his own. And further, as the last 
scene of a man's life generally commands the 
greatest regard, if any thing remarkable at that 
time was either said or done, it ought particu- 
larly to be mentioned. Nor should the manner 
of his death or cause of it, if accompanied with 
any commendable circumstances, be omitted^ 
as if he died in the service of his country, or m 
the pursuit of any other laudable design. 

The third and last period relates to what fol-i 
lowed after the death of the person. Aad here 
the public loss and public honours conferred 
upon the deceased are proper to be mentioned* 
Sepulchres, statues, and other monuments to per* 
petuate the memory of the dead at the expence 
of the public, were in common use both among 
the Greeks and Romans. But in the earliest 
times, as these honours were more rare, so 
they were less costly : for as in one age it wa$ 
thought a sufficient reward for him who died in 
the defence of his country to have his name cut 
in a marble inscription with the cause of his 
death, so in others it was very common to see 
the statues of gladiators and persons of the 
meanest rank erected in public places. And,^ 
therefore, a judgment is to be formed of these 
things from the time, custom, and circumstances 
of different nations j since the frequency q( 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 34T 

(hem renders them less honourable, and takes 
off from their evidence as the rewards of vir- 
tue. But, as Quintilian says : Children (ire an 
honour to their parents^ cities to their founders^ 
laws to those who compiled them, arts to their 
inventors, and useful customs to the authors of 
them. 

And this may suffice for the method of prais* 
ing persons whep we propose to follow the or- 
der of time, as Isocrates has done in his funeral 
oration upon Evagoras, king of Salamis, and 
Pliny in his panegyric upon the emperor Trajan, 
3ut as this method is very plain and obvious, so 
it requires the more agreeable dress to render it 
delightful; lest otherwise it seem rather like an 
history than an oration. For which reason we 
find that epic poets, as Homer, Virgil, and 
othersy begin the middle of their story, and aft- 
erwards take a- proper occasion to introduce 
what preceded, to diversify the subject, and give 
the greater pleasure and entertainment to their 
readers. 

The other method above hinted was to re- 
duce the discourse to certain general heads, 
without regarding the order of time. As if any 
one in praising the Elder Cat<i should propose 
to do it by showing that he was a most prudent 
senator, an excellent orator, and most valiant 
general; all which commendations are given 
him by Pliny. In like manner the character o£ 
a good general may be comprised under four 
heads, — skill in military affairs, courage, authori* 
ty, and success; from all which Cicero com- 
mends Pompey. And agreeably to this method 
Suetonius has written the lives of the first twelve 
Csesars. 



34S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

But in praising of persons care should always 
be taken to say nothing that may seem ficti- 
tious or out of character, which may call the 
orator's judgment or integrity in question. It 
was not without cause therefore, that Lysippus 
the statuary, as Plutarch tells us, blamed Apelles 
for painting Alexander the Great with thunder 
in his hand ; which could never suit his charac- 
ter as a map, however he might boast of his di- 
vine descent ; for which reason Lysippus him- 
self made an ima^e of him holding a spear, as 
the sign of a warrior. Light and trivial things 
"in commendations are likewise to be avoided^ 
and nothing mentioned but what may carry in 
it the idea of something truly valuable, and 
which the hearers may be supposed to wish for, 
and is proper to excite their emulation. These 
are the principal heads of praise with relation to 
men. In dispraise, as was hinted before, the 
heads contrary to these are requisite ; which be- 
ing sufficiently clear from what has been said, 
need not particularly be insisted on. 

I proceed, therefore, to the other part of the 
division, which respects things as distinguished 
from persons. By which we are to understand 
alU beings inferior to man, whether animate or 
inanimate; as likewise the habits and disposi**^ 
tions of men either good or bad, when consider-, 
ed separately and apart from their subjects, as arts 
and sciences, virtues and vices, with whatever 
' else may be a proper subject for praise or dis- 
praise. Some writers indeed have, for their 
own amusement and the diversion of others, di- 
splayed their eloquence in a jocose manner upon 
subjects of this kind. So Lucian has written ia 
praise of a ^j/, and Synesius an elegant en^o- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 049 

fnium upon baldness. Others, on the contrary, 
have done the like in a satyrical way. Such is 
Seneca's Apotfyeosis or consecration of the em- 
peror Claudius ; and the Mysopogon or Beard- 
hater, written by Julian the emperor. Not to 
mention several modern authors who havelmi- 
tated them in such ludicrous compositions. But 
as to these things, and all of the like nature, the 
observation of Anthony in Cicero seem^ very 
just : That it is not necessary to reduce every sub^ 
ject we discourse upon to rules of art. For many 
are so trivial as not to deserve it; and others so 
plain and evident of themselves as not to re- 
quire it. But since it frequently comes in lihe 
way both of orators and historians to describe 
countriesy cities] BTid facts y I shall briefly mfention 
the principal heads of invention proper to illus- 
trate each of these. 

Countries then may be celebrated from the 
pleasantness of their situation, the clemency and 
wholesomeness of the air and goodness of the 
soil, to which last may be referred the springs, 
rivers, woods, plains, mountains, and minerals. 
An<l to all the^e may be added their extent, 
cities, the number and antiquity of the inhabi- 
tants, their policy, laws, customs, wealth, cha- 
racter for cultivating the arts both of peace and 
war, their princes, and other eminent men they 
have produced. Thus Pacatus has given us a 
very elegant description of Spain, in his pane-- 
gyric upon the emperor Theadosiusl who was born 
there. 

Cities are praised from much the same topics 
as countries. And here, whatever contributes 
cither to their defence or ornament ought par- 
ticularly to be mentioned ; as the strength of 



350 kHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

the walls and fortifications, die beauty and 
splendor of their buildings, whether sacred or 
civil, public or private. W^ have in Herodotus 
a very fine description of Babylon, which was 
once the strongest, largest, and mo6t regular city 
in the world. And Cicero has accurately, de-* 
scribed the city Syracuse, in the island Sicily, 
in one of his orations against Verres^ 

But/acts come much oftener under the cog- 
nisance of an orator : and these receive their 
commendation from their honour, justice, or ad* 
' vantage. But in describins^ them all the circum- 
stances should be related m their proper order> 
and that in the most lively and affecting man-> 
ner, suited to their different nature. Livy has 
represented the demolition of Alba by the Ro^ 
man army which was sent thither to destroy it, 
through the whole course of that melancholy 
scene, in a style so moving and pathetic, that 
one can hardly forbear condoling with the inha- 
bitants upon reading his account. 

But in discourses of this kind, whether of 
praise, or dispraise, the orator should (as he 
ought indeed upon all occasions) well consider 
where, and to whom, he speaks : for wise men 
often think very differently both of persons and 
things from the common people. And we find 
that learned and judicious men are frequently 
divided in their sentiments from the several ways 
of thinking to which they have been accustom- 
ed. Besides, different opinions prevail and gain 
the ascendant at different times. While the Ro- 
mans continued a free nation, love of their coun- 
try, liberty, and a public spirit, were principles 
lit the highest esteem among them. And there- 
fore when Cato killed himself that be might not 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 351 

fall into the hands of Caesar, and survive the li* 
berty of his country, it was thought an instance 
of the greatest heroic virtue; but afterwards, 
when they had been accustomed to an arbitrary 
government, and the spirit of liberty was now 
lost,, the poet Martial could venture to say. 

Death to avoid 'tis madness sure to die. 

A prudent orator therefore will be cautious of 
opposing any settled and prevailing notions of 
those to whom he addresses ; unless it be neces- 
sary, and then he will do it in the softest and 
most gentle^ manner. 

Now if we look back and consider the several 
heads of praise enumerated under each of the 
subjects above mentioned, we shall find they 
are taken from their nature, properties, circum- 
stances, or some other general topic, as was in- 
timated in the beginning of this discourse. 

t 

Of Arguvients suited to deliberative Discaw^es. 

This kind of discourses must certainly have 
been very ancient, since doubtless from the first 
beginning of men's conversing together they 
deliberated upon their common interest, and 
offered their advice to each other. 

All deliberation respects something future, 
for it is in vain to consult about what is already 
past. The subject matter of it are either things 
public or private, sacred or civil: indeed all 
the valuable concerns of mankind, both present 
and future, come under its regard ; and the 
end proposed by this kind of discourses is chiefly 
profit or interest. But since nothing is truly 
profitable but what is in some respect good 5 



552 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

and every thing which is good in itself may not 
in all circumstances be for our advantage ; pro« 
perly speaking, what is both good and profit- 
able, or beneficial good, is the end here design- 
ed. And, therefore, as it sometimes happens 
that what appears profitable may seem to in- 
terfere with that which is strictly just and ho- 
nourable, in such cases it is certainly mgst ad- 
viseable to determine on the safer side of ho- 
nour and justice, notwithstanding some plausible 
things may be offered to the contrary. But 
where the dispute lies apparently between what 
is truly honest, and some external advantage 
proposed in opposition to it, all good men can- 
not but agree in favour of honesty. Now when 
it proves to be a matter of debate whether a 
thing upon the whole be really beneficial or not, 
as here arise two parts, advice and dissuasion, 
they -will each require proper heads of argu- 
ment: but as they are contrary to each other, 
he who is acquainted with one cannot well be 
ignorant of the otfier. For which reason, as in 
my last discourse, I recited only the topics suit- 
ed for praise, leaving those for dispraise to be 
collected from them ; so here, likewise, I shall 
chiefly nvention those proper for advice, from 
whence such as are suited to dissuade will easily 
be perceived. Now the principal heads of this 
kind are these following, which are taken from 
the nature and properties of the thing itself un- 
der consideration. 

And first, pleasure often affords a very cogent 
argument in discourses of this nature. Every 
one knows what an influence this has^upon the 
generality of mankind. Though, as Quintilian 
remarks, pleasure ought not of itself to be pro- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 35? 

posed as a fit motive for action in serious dis- 
courses, but when it is designed to recommend 
something useful^ which is the case here. So, 
would any one advise another to the pursuit of 
polite literature, Cicero has furnished him with 
a very strong inducement to it from the plea- 
sure which attends that study, when he says: 
If pleasure only teas proposed by these studies^ you 
would think them an entertainment becoming a 
man of sense and a gentleman. For otlier pur- 
suits neither agree zoith all times y all ages, nor all 
places; but these studies improve youth, delight old 
Age, adorn prosperity, afford a refuge and com* 
fort in adversity, divert us at home, are no hin- 
drance abroad, sleep, travel^ and retire with us in 
the country. 

A second head is profit or advantage, which 
has no less influence upon many persons than 
the former, and, when it respects things truly 
valuable^ is a very just and laudable motive. 
Thus Cicero, when he sends his Books of Offices 
to his son, which he wrote in Latin for his use, 
advises him to make the best advantage both 
of his tutor's instructions and the conversation 
at Athens, where he then was ; but withal to 
peruse his philosophical treatises, which would 
be doubly useful to him, not only upon account 
of the subjects but likewise of the language, 
as they would enable him to express himself 
upon those arguments in Latin, which b^ore 
had only been treated of in Greek. 

The last head of this kind which I shall men- 
tion is honour. And no argument will sooner 
prevail with generous minds, or inspire theiQ 
with greater ardour. Virgil has very beautifully 
ilescribcd Hector's ghost appearing to jEneas^ 

2 a 



^ I 



354 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

the night Troy was taken, and advising him to 
depart from this motive of honour. 

O goddess-bom, escape by timely flight 
The flames and horrors of this fatal ftight. 
The foes already have possess'd the wall, 
Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall. 
Enough is paid to Priam's royal name ; 
More than enough to duty and to fame. 
If by a mortal hand my father's throne 
CouM be defeftded, *twas by mine alon^^ 

TTie argument here made use of to persuade 
iEneas to leave Troy immediately is, that he 
had already done all that could be expected 
from him, either as a good subject or brave sol- 
dier, both for his king and country, which were 
sufficient to secure his honour ; and now there 
was nothing more to be expected from him, 
whea.the city was falling and impossible to be 
saved; which could it have been preserved by 
human power, he himself had done it. 

But although a thing considered in itself ap- 
pear beneficial if it could be attained, yet the 
expediency of undertaking it may still be ques- 
tionable y in which case the following heddsy 
taken from the circumstances which attend it, . 
will afford proper arguments to engage in it. 

And first the possibility of succeeding may 
sometimes be argued as one motive to this end* 
So HanUfibal endeavoured to convince king An- 
tiochus, that it was possible for him to conquer 
the Romans if be made Italy the ?eat of the war i 
by obserrirfg to him, not .only, .that the Gauls 
bad formerly destroyed their city, but that be 
had himself defeated them in every battle he 
fought with- them in that country. 
, But the bare possibility of a thing is seldom a 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 355 

'Efficient motive to. Uadertake it, unless on very 
urgent. occasions. And therefore an argument; 
founded uppn prphal)ility will be much more 
likely to prevail. For, in many affairs of hura?in 
life, men are determined either to prosecute 
theol ox notj as the prospect of success appears 
more or less probable. Hence Cicero, after the. 
fatal, battle at Pharsalia, dissuades those of Pom- 
pey's party, with whom he was engaged, from 
<:ontiiluing the war any longer against Caesar ; 
because it was highly improbable after such a 
defeat, by which their main strength was broken, 
that they should be able to stand their ground 
Tor meet with better success than they had 
before. 

But further : since probability is not a motive 
strong enough with many persons to engage in 
the prosecution of a thiqg which is attended 
with considerable difficulties) it is often neces- 
sary to represent the facility of doing it as a fur- 
ther reason to induce them to it. And therefore 
"Cicero ra^kes Use of this argument to encourage' 
the Roman citizen? in opposing Mark Anthony 
(who upon the death of Cs^sar had assumed an 
. arbitrary power) by representing to them that 
his circumstances were then desperate, and that 
. he might easily be vanquished. 

Again : if the thing advised to can be shpwn 
to be in any respect necessary, this will render 
the motive still much stronger for undertaking 
it. And therefore Cicero joins this argument 
with the former, to prevail with the Roman ci- 
tizens to oppose Anthony, by telling them, that 
the consiieratioti befoj^e them was not in what clr* 
cumstances. tliev should live, but lohether they 
should livt at all, or die with ignominy and dis^ 

2 A 2 



35d RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

grace. This way of reasoning will sometimes 
prevail when aM others prove ineffectual. For 
some persons are not to be moved till things are 
brought to an extremity, and they find them* 
selves reduced to the utmost danger. 

To these heads may be added the considera- 
tion of the €V€7ity which in some cases carries 
Sreat weight with it : — as when we advise to 
le doing of a thing from this motive, that whe- 
ther it succeed or not it will yet be of service^ to 
undertake it. So, after the ffreat victory gained 
by Themistocles over the rersian fleet at the 
Straits of Salamis, Mardonius advised Xerxes 
to return into Asia himself, lest the report of 
his defeat should occasion an insurrection ia his 
absence; but to leave behind him an army of 
three hundred thousand men under his com- 
mand ;,with which if he should conquer Greece, 
the chief glory of the conquest would redound 
to Xerxes ; but, if the design miscarried, the dis- 
grace would fall upon his generals. 

These are the principal heads which furnish 
the orator with proper arguments in giving ad- 
vice. Cicero in his oration for the Mahilian law, 
where he endeavours to persuade the Roman 
people to choose Pompey for their general in the 
Mithridatic war, reasons from three of these to- 
pics, into which he divides his whole discourse \ 
namelv, the necessity of the war, the greatness 
of it, tne choice of a proper general, ynder the 
first of these he shows that the war was neces- 
sary from four considerations ; the honour of the 
Roman state, the safety of their allies, their own 
revenues, and the fortunes of many of their fel- 
low citizens, which were all highly concerned in 
it, and called upon them to put a stop to th^ 



' RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. S57 

growing power of king Mitbridates, by which 
they were all greatly endangered. So that this 
argument is taken from the bead of necessity^ 
The second, in which he treats of the greatness 
of the war, is founded upon the topic of possU 
bility. For though he shows the power of Mi- 
tbridates to be very great, yet not so formidable 
but that he might be subdued ; as was evident 
from the many advantages Lucullus had gained 
over him and his associates. In the third head 
he endeavours to prevail with them to entrust 
the management of the war in the hands of 
Pompey, whom he describes as a consummate ' 
general for his skill in military affairs, courage^ 
jautbority, and success, in all which qualities he 
represents him as superior to any other of their 
generals whom they could at that time make 
choice of. The design of all which was to per- 
suade them they might have very good reasoqi 
to hope for success, and a happy event of the 
Wdcty under his conduct. So that the whole force 
of his reasoning under this head is drawn from 
probability. These are the three general topics 
wb^ch make up that fine discourse; each of 
which is indeed supported by divers other ar- 
gximents and considerations, which will be ob- 
vious in perusing the oration itself, and therefore 
need not be here enumerated. On the contrary, 
in another oration be endeavours to dissuade the 
senate from consenting to a peace with Mark 
Anthonv, because it was base, dangerous, and 
impracticable. 

but no small skill and address are required in 
giving advice. For, since the tempers and sen- 
timents of mankind, as well as their circum- 
stances, arever}^ different and various, it is oftea 

2A 3 



358 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

I 

necessary to accommodate the discourse to their 
inclinations and opinions of things : and there- 
fore the weightiest arguments are not always the 
most proper and the fittest to be used on all occa- 
sions. Cicero, who was an admirable master of 
this art, and knew perfectly well how to suit 
what he said to the taste and relish of his hearers, 
in treating upon this subject;, distinguishes man- 
kind into two sorts — ^the ignorant and unpolish- 
ed, who always prefer profit to honour; and such 
as are more civilised and polite, who prefer ho;- 
nour and refutation to all other things. Where- 
fore they are to be moved by these different 
views: praise, glory, and virtue, influence the 
one; while the other is only to be engaged by a 
prospect of gain and pleasure. Besides, it is 
plain that the generality of mankind are much 
more inclined to avoid evils than to pursue what 
is good, and to keep clear of scandal and dis.- 
grace than to practise what is truly generous 
and noble. Persons likewise of a different age 
act from different principles; young men for 
the most part view things in another light fronx 
those who are older and have had more expe- 
rience, and consequently are not to be influenced 
from the same motives. Every nation also has 
its particular customs, manners, end polity, 
•which give a different turn to the genius of the 
inhabitants. The speech of Alexander, made to 
his soldiers before he engaged the Persians, as 
we have it. in Curtius, is finely w^rought up in 
this respect. For, as his army v^as composed of 
different nations, the parts of his discourse are 
admirably well suited to their several views in 
prosecuting the war. He reminds his country- 
man, the Macedonians^ of their forn^er victories 



RHETORTCAL GRAMMAR- 36^ 

in Europe; and tells them, that Persia is not to 
be the boundary of their conquests, but they are 
to extend them further than either Hercules or 
Bacchus had done : that Bactra and the Indies 
would be theirs, and that what they saw was 
but a small part of what they were to possess : 
that neither the rocks of lUyrium, nor the moun- 
tains of Thrace, but the spoils of the whole East 
were now before them : that the conquest would 
be so easy they would scarce have occasion ta» 
draw their swords, but they might push the^ 
enemy with their bucklers. Then he reminds- 
them of their subduing the Athenians under his 
father Philip, and the late conquest of Boeotia, 
the victory at the river Granicus-, and the many 
cities and countries now behind them and under 
their subjection. When he addresses the Greeks, 
he tells them, they are now going to engage 
\vith those that had been the enemies of their 
country, first by the insolence of Darius, and 
afterwards of Xerxes, who would have deprived 
them even of tlie necessaries of life, who destroyr 
cd their temples, demolished their towns, and 
violated both their sacred and civil rights. And 
then directing his discourse to the Illyrians and 
Thracians, who were accustomed to live by 
plunder, he encouraged them with the prospect 
of booty from the rich armour and furniture of 
the Persians, which they might be masters of 
with the greatest ease ; and tells them, they 
would now exchange thejr barren mountains and 
snowy hills for the fertile country and -fields of 
Persia. 



2a4 i^f 






Zeo RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 



Of Argtimefits sidfed to judicial Discours^ef^ 

Ijii judicial controtersies there are two partie^^ 
the plaintiff or prosecutor, and the defendant 
or person charged. The subject of them is al- 
ways something past. And the end proposed 
by them Cicero calls egnity, or right and equity ^^ 
the former of which arises from the laws of the 
'country, and the latter from reason and the na- 
tiure of things. For at Rome the praetors 'had a 
court of equity, and were empowered, in many 
cases relating to property, to relax the rigor of 
the written laws. But as this subject is very co« 
pious, and causes may arise from a great variety 
of things, writers have reduced them to three 
beads, which they call states, to some one of 
which 2X1 judicial proceedings may be referred j 
namely, whether a thing is, what it is, or kmv it is. 
By the state of a cause therefore is meant the 
principal question in dispute, upon which the 
whole affair depends ; which, if it stops in the^ 
first inquiry, and the defendant denies the fact, 
ihe state IS czihd conjecturah but if the fact be 
acknowledged, and yet denied to be what the 
adversary calls it, it is termed definitive; but if 
there is no dispute either about the fact or its 
name, but only the justice of it, it is called the 
state of quality : as was shown more largely be- 
fore. But I then considered these states only in 
a general view, and deferred the particular heads 
of argument proper for each of them to this judi- 
cial kind of discourses ; where they most fre-^ 
quently occur, and from which exaniples may 
easily be accommodated to other subjects. And 
tbisi is what I am now particularly to treat of* 



t 

RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 36t 

All judicial causes are either private or public* 
They are called private, which relate to the right 
of particular persons -, and they are likewise 
called civil causes, as they are conversant about 
matters of property. Public causes are those 
which relate to public justice and the govern- 
ment of the state ; which are also called crimi* 
nal, because by them crimes are prosecuted, 
whether capital or those of a less heinous na- 
ture. I shall take the heads of the arguments 
only from this latter kind, because they are more 
copious and easy to be illustrated by examples; 
, from which such as agree to the former, namely, 
civil causes, will sufficiently appear. 

And I shall begin with the conjectural state, 
which comes first in the order of inquiry* Whea 
therefore the accused person denies the fact, 
there are three things which the prosecutor has 
to consider: Whether he zvould have done it, 
whether he could, and whether he did it. And 
hence arise three topics; from the Willy the 
Potver, and the Signs or circumstances which 
attended the action. The affections of the mind 
discover the Will; as, passion, an old grudge, a 
desire of revenge, a res.eotment of an injury, and 
the like. Therefore Cicero argues from Clo- 
dius's hatred of Milo, that he designed his death, 
and from thence infers that he was the aggressor in 
the combat between them, wherein Clodius was 
killed. This is what he principally endeavours 
to prove, and comes properly under this state : 
for Milo owned that he killed him, but alleged 
that he did it in his own defence. So that in re-- j 
gai:d to this point, which of them assaulted the 
Other, the charge was mutual. The prospect 
of advantage may also be alleged to tae saiu* 



3aJ4 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

purpose. Hence it is said of L. Cassius, that 
whenever he sat as judge in a case of murder, 
he used to advise and move the ^ourt to ex- 
amine, to whom the advantage arose from the 
death of the deceased. And Cicero puts this 
to Anthony concerning the death of Caesar. If 
any one, says he, should bring you upon trialy and 
use that saying of Cassitis, cui bono ? zoho got by 
it ^ look to ity I beseech youy that y on are not cofi-r 
founded. To these arguments may be added, 
hope of impunity, taken either from the circum- 
stances of the accused person, or of him who 
suffered the injury. For persons who have the 
advantage of interest, friends, power, or money^^. 
^re apt to think they may easily escape ; as like- 
wise such who have formerly committed other 
primes with impunity. Thus Cicero represents 
Clodius as hardened in vice, and above all the 
restraint of laws, from having so often escaped 
punishment upon committing the highest crimes. 
On the contrary, sr.ch a confidence is some-* 
times raised from the condition of the injured 
party, if he is indigent, obscure, timorous, or 
destitute of friends ; much more if he has an ill 
reputation, or is loaded with popular hatred and 
resentment. It was this presumption of the ob- 
scurity of Roscius, who lived in the country^ 
and of his want of interest at Rome, which en- 
couraged his accusers to charge him with kill- 
ing his father, as Cicero shows in his defence of 
him. Lastly, the temper of a person, his. views, 
and manner of life, are considerations of great 
moment in this matter. For persons of bad mo- 
rals, and such who arc addicted to vice, are easi-- 
Jy thought capable of committing any wicked- 
ness. Hence Sallust argues from the evil di&po-* 



RHETORICAL; GRAMMAR. 363 

sit ion and vitigus life of Catiline, that he affect* 
ed to raise himself upon the ruins of his coun- 
try. The second head is the power of doing a 
thing ; and there are three things which relate 
to this, the place^ the timey and opportunity. As, 
if a crime is said to have been committed in a 
private place where no other person was pre- 
sent; or in the night; or when the injured per* 
son was unable to provide for his defence. Un- 
der this head may likewise be brought in the 
circumstances of the persons ; as if the accused 
person was stronger, and so able to overpower 
the other; or more active, and so could easily 
make his escape. Cicero makes great use of this 
topic in the case of Milo, and shows that Clo- 
dius had all the advantages of placCy timCy and 
opportunity y to execute his design of killing him. 
The third head are the signs and circumstances 
which either preceded, accompanied, or follow- 
ed the commission of the fact. So threats, or the 
accused person being seen at or near the place 
before the fact was committed, are circum- 
3tances that may probably precede murder; fight- 
ing, crying out, bloodshed, are such as accom- 
pany it; paleness, trembling, inconsistent an- 
swers, hesitation or faltering of speech, some- 
thing found upon the person accused which be- 
longed to the deceased, are such as follow. Thus 
Cicero proves that Clodius had threatened the 
death of Milo, and given out that he should not 
live above three days at the furthest. These ar- 
guments, taken from conjectures, are called />r<v 
sumpllonSy which, though they do nat directly 
prove that the accused person committed the 
fact with which he is charged, yet when be- 
ing laid tpgether they appeared very strong, 



864 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

sentence by the Roman law might sametimes 
be given upon them to convict him. 

These are the topics from which the prosecu- 
tor takes his arguments. Now the business of 
the defendant is to invalidate these. Therefore 
such as are brought from the ivilt^ he either en- 
deavours to show are not true, or so weak as to 
merit very little regard. And he refutes those 
taken from the pozver^ by proving that he want- 
ed either opportunity or ability: as, if he can 
show that neither the place nor time iti&isted on 
was at all proper, or that he was then in another 
place. In like manner he will endeavour to 
confute the ciraifnstanceSf if they cannot directly 
be denied, by showing that they are not such 
as do necessarily accompany the fact, but might 
have proceeded from other causes, though no- 
thing of what is alleged had been committed ; 
and It will be of great service to assign some 
other probable cause. But sometimes the de- 
fendant does not only deny that be did the fact, 
but charges it upon another. Thus Cicero, in his 
oration for Roscius, not only defends him from 
each of these three heads, but likewise charges 
the fact upon his accusers. 

I come now to the definitive state, which i$ 
principally concerned in defining and fixing the 
tiame proper to the fact. Though orators seK 
dom make use of exact definitions, but con>- 
monly choose larger descriptions, taken from 
various properties of the subject or thing de* 
$cribed. 

The heads of argument in this state are much 
the same to both parties. For each of them de- 
fines the fact bis own way, and endeavours to 
jefute tl;ic other's definition, We may illustrate 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 36S 

this by an example from QuintUian: A person 
is accused of sacrilegey for stealing money out qfd 
iemple^ xchick belonged to a private person. The 
fact is owned, but the question is. Whether it be 
properly sacrilege? The prosecutor calls it so, 
because it was taken out of a temple. But since 
the money belonged to a private person the de- 
fendant denies it to be sacrilege, and says it i$ 
only simple theft. Now the reason why the dc-^ 
fendant uses this plea, and insists upon th^ di- 
stinction, is, because by the Roman law the pe^ 
nalty of the theft was only four times the value 
of what was stolen ; whereas sacrilege was pu-* 
nished with death. The prosecutor then forms 
his definition agreeably to his charge, and sayst 
To steal any thing cut of a sacred place is sacrh- 
lege. But the defendant excepts against this de- 
finition as defective ; and urges that it does not 
amount to sacrilege unless the thing stolen wa$ 
likewise sacred. And this case might once per- 
haps have been a matter of controversy, since 
we find it expressly determined in the Pandects, 
that. An action of sacrilege should not i>, but only 
of theft, against any one who should steal the 
goods of private persons deposited in a temple. 

The second thing is the proof brought by 
^?ach party to support his definition, as in the ex- 
ample given us by Cipero, of one, who carried 
his cause by bribery^ and was afterxvards prose- 
cuted again upon an action of prevarication. Novi 
;f the defendant was cast upon this action, h^ 
i^as by the Roman law subjected to the penalty 
of the former prosecution. Here the prosecutor 
defines prevarication to be, any bribery or cor^ 
ruption in the defendafit, icith a design ' to per-' 
vert justice^ The defendant tl^erefore, on the 



S66 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

other hand> restrains it to bribing only th£ pr6* 
secutork 

And if this latter sense agree better with the 
common acceptation of the word, the prosecu-*^ 
tor in the third place pleads the intention of the 
law, which was to comprehend all bribery in 
judicial matters under the term oi prevarication. 
In answer to which the defendant endeavoursr 
to show, either from the head of contraries^ that 
a real prosecutor and a prevaricator are used as 
opposite terms in the law, or from the etymolo- 
gy of the word, that a prevaricator denotes one 
who pretends to app^jar in the prosecution of a 
cause, while in reality he favours the contrary 
side; and consequently that money given for 
this end only, can, in the sense of the law, be 
called prevarication. 

Lastly, the prosecutor pleads, it is unreason- 
able that he, who does not deny the fact, should 
escape by a cavil about a word. But the de- 
fendant insists upon his explication, as agree- 
able to the law, and says the fact is misrepre- 
sented and blackened by affixing to it a wrong 
name. 

The third state is that of quality , in which the 
dispute turns upon the justice of an action. And 
here the defendant does not deny he did the 
thing he is charged with, but asserts it to be 
right and equitable, from the circumstances of 
the case, and the motives which induced him 
to it. 

And first, he sometimes alleges the reason of 
doing it was in order to prevent some other 
thing of worse consequence, which would other- 
wise have happened. We have an instance of 
this in the iiie of Epaminondas, who, with two 



kttETORlCAL GRAMMAR* ^ 3a^ 

jftth^er geiietals joined in tht com«iand with' 
him, marched the Theban army into Pelopon 
n^sus against the Lacedaemonians ; but by the 
influence of a contrary faction at home theit* 
commissions were superseded, and other generals 
sent to command the army. But Epaminondas 
being sensible that if he obeyed this order at 
that time it would be attended with the loss of 
the whole army, and consequently the ruin of 
the state, refused to do it ; and having persuad- 
ed the other generals to do the like, they hap^ 
pily finished the war in which they were en- 
gaged •, and upon their return home, Epaminon* 
das taking the whole matter upon himself, on 
his trial was acquitted. The arguments proper 
in this case are taken from the justice, useful- 
ness, or necessity of the action. The accuser 
therefore will plead, that the fact was not just, 
profitable, nor necessary, considered either in 
itself, or comparatively with that for the sake of 
which it is said to have been done. And he wjll 
endeavour to show that what the defendant as- 
signs for the reason of what he did, might not 
have happened as he pretends. Besides, he will 
represent of what ill consequence it must be, if 
such crimes go unpunished. The defendant, on 
the other hand, will argue from the same heads, 
and endeavour to prove the fact was just, useful, 
or necessary. And he will further urge, that no 
just estimate can be' made of any action but 
from the circumstances which attend it; as the 
design, occasion, and motives for doing it; 
which he will represent in the most favourable 
light to his own cause, and endeavour to set 
tliem. in "such a view as to induce others to think 



36S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

tbey could not but have ctone the sam6 in the 
like circumstances. 

Again; the cause of an action is sometimes 
charged by the defendant upon the party who 
received the damage* or some other person who 
either made it necessary, or enjoined him to do 
it. The first of these was Milo's plea for killing 
Clodius, because he assaulted him with a de- 
sign to take away his life. Here the fact is not 
denied as in the case of Roscius above mention* 
edy under the conjectural state, but justified from, 
the reason of doing it. For that an assassinator 
might justly be killed, Cicero shows both from 
law and reason. The accuser therefore in such 
a case will, if there be room for it, deny the 
truth of this allegation. So the friends or Clo* 
dius affirmed thatMilowas the aggressor, and not 
Clodius ; which Cicero, in his defence of Milo, 
principally labours to refute. In the second case 
the prosecutor will say, no one ought to offend 
because another has oflfended first; which de- 
feats the course of public justice, renders the 
laws useless, and destroys the authority of the 
magistrate. The defendant, on the other hand, 
will endeavour to represent the danger and ne- 
cessity of the case, which required an immediate 
remedy, and in that manner ; and urges that it 
was vain and impracticable to wait tor redress 
in the ordinary way, and therefore no ill conse-' 
quence can arise to the public. Thus Cicero 
in defending Sextius, who was prosecuted for a 
riot, in bringing armed men into the forum^ 
ihows that his design was only to repel force with 
force; which was then necessary, there being no. 
oth^er means Jeft for the people to assemble, wba 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR/ 369 

were excluded by a mob of the contrary party. 
Of the third case we have also an example in 
Cicero, who tells us, that, in making a league 
Ictii^en the Romans and Samnites, a certain young 
noblemaii zoas ordered btf the Bmnan general to 
hold the szvine (designed for a sacrifice J ; 'but the. 
senate afterwards disapproving the terms, and rfr- 
livering up their general to the Samnites, it was 
movedy whether this young man, ought not likewise 
to be given up. Those who were for it might 
say, that to allege the commjuodi of another is^ 
not a sufficient ple9^ for doing an ill action. 
And this is whi^t the Romanlaw.now expressly 
declares. But in answer to that.it might be re^- 
plied ; that it was his duty to obey the command* 
of his general, who was answerable for his ownl 
orders, and not those who were obliged to ex- 
ecute them; and therefore to giv^ up this young* 
nobleman would' be to punish one person for 
the fault of another. r ' . 

Lastly, a fact is sometimes, rather excused 
than defended, by pleading that it. was not done 
designedly, or with any ill intent. This is called 
concession^ and contains two parts, apology and 
intreaty. The former represents the matter as 
the effect of inadvertency, chance, or necessity. 
Aristotle gives u« an example of inadvertency 
or imprudence in a woman at Athens, who gave 
a young man a love potion, which killed him ; 
for which she was tried, but acquitted. Though 
afterwards this was made criminal by the Ro- 
man law. The case of Adrastus, as related by 
Herodotus, is an instance of chance ; who being 
intrusted by Croesus with the care of his son, a& 
they were hunting, killed him accidentally with 
a javelin which he threw at a boar. It is ncces- 

2 B 



I 



3^70 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

sity, when a person excuses his makiiig a de* 
fault from stress of weather, sickness, or the like. 
Thus Cicero pleaded his illness, contracted by 
the fs^tigue of a long journey, as an excuse for 
not appearing in the senate upon the summons 
of Mark Anthony j who threatened to oblige him 
to it by pulling his house down. But what 
the defendant here attribtites to inadvertency, 
chance, or necessity, the opposite party will at* 
tribute to design, negligence, or some other cul- 
jpable i*eason j and represent it as a matter inju- 
rious to the public to introduce such precedents 3 
and also produce inKtances,if that can be done, 
^vJiere the like excuses have not been admitted. 
<Dn the oth'er hand, the defendant will in^i^t on 
his innocence, and show the hardship and seve- 
rity of judging men's actions rather by the event 
than from the intention : that such a proceduref 
rtiadkeai no difference between the innocent and 
the guilty, but must necessarily involve many 
Honest men in ruin and destruction, discourage 
all virtuous and gtoerous designs, and turn great- 
ly to the prejudice of human society* He will 
dlso consider the instances alleged by the ac^ru- 
ser, and show- tiHe difference between them and 
his own case* And, lastly, he will have recourse 
to intreaty, or a submissive address to the equi- 
ty and clemency of the court or party ofiended, 
for pardon j as Cicero has done in his oration to 
Caesar, in favour of Ligarius. 

These instances are sufficient to show the na- 
ture of the arguments suited to judicial dis* 
courses, which are deduced from a variety of 
tiie general topics. 



RHE^ORlCiiL GHAVMAR. 371 



' 'Of the Chdracier and Address of an Orator. ' 

Having in several discourses considereid and 
explained the first part of invbntion, which fur- 
nishes the oiiitpr f with such arguments as are 
necessary for the proof of his subject, I am next 
to ^how what are the proper means to conciliate 
itie minds' of ius h«arersj to gain their affection, 
Aiid to recommend both himself and what he 
says to their godd'opinionand^eSteem. For the 
{ȣts of > inve^itrb^ are' commoniy thus distin-^ 
guished ; that the first tespects the subject^oi 
thfijdi&course, the second the speaker, and the 
third the Aeareri. - Now the second of these^ 
which, is What I am at present to explain, is by 
duintiiian' <:alldd a propriety/ of manners. <A:4id 
iiv or(ier to express this, it is necessary, as he tells 
us, that every thing appear easy and naturelf'^d 
the disppsition of the » speaker be discovered by his 
words. We may form an easy conception of thiii 
from the conduct of such persons who are most 
nearly concerned in each o therms welfare. As 
when relations or friends converse together upon 
any ai&ir^ of importance, the temper and di$pi>^ 
sitiun of the speaker plainly shows itself by his 
words and manner of address. And what na- 
ture here directs to without colouring or dis- 
guise, the orator is to endeavour to perform by* 
his art. Though, indeed, if what a* person says 
be Inconsistent with his usual conduct and be- 
hapour at other tim^, be cannot expect it 
should gain much credit, or mali:e any deep im« 
pression upon his hearers : which may be one 
reason why the ancient rhetoricians make it so 

2 B 8 



372 &H&TDEICAL GRi&MMAR. 

necessary a qualification in an orator, that he be 
a good man -, since, he should always be con* 
sistent with himself, and, as we say, talk' in 
character. And therefore it is highly reauisite 
Ihftt be should not only gain the skill of assu- 
mitig those qualities, which the nature and cir* 
cun^tances of his discourse require him to ex- 
press,, but, likewise, that he ^ould Use his ut- 
most endeavours, to get the real habks implanted 
ia bis mind : for as by this meaiss they will be 
QJ^vays expressed with greater ea&e and facility, 
so, by appearing constantly in the oourse of his 
life, they will have more weight and influeace 
U|5on particular occasions. . . 

, Now there. are four qualities. :more especially 
suited to the character of an orator, which should 
always appear inr his discourses, in oiJder to ren- 
der what he says, acceptable to his hearers ; and 
th€Qe are, wisdom^ integrity, benevolence, and 
fno^estjf. 

Wisdom is necessary, because we easily give 
into the opinion of those whom we esteem 
wis^r and more knowing than ourselves. Know- 
ledge, is very agreeable and pleasant to all, but 
few make very great improvements in it. Such, 
^ therefore, who either cannot or do not care ta 
give themselves the trouble of examining into? 
things themselves, must take up with the repre- 
sentation of others ; and it is an^ ease to them to 
hear the opinioo of persons whom .they esteem 
wiser, than themsjelves. No one loves to be de* 
ceived; and such who are fearful of being misled 
are pleased to meet with a person in whose 
wisdom, as thejr think, they can. safely trust* 
The character of wisdom, therefore, is of great 
service to an orjitor, since the greater part of 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR, 37 



e* 



mankind are swayed by authority rather than 
arguments. 

But this of itself is not sufficient, unless the 
opinion/of integrity be joined with it. Nay, so 
far from it, that the greater knowledge and un- 
derstanding a man is supposed to have, unless he 
likewise have the character of an honest- man, 
he is often the more suspected. For knowlfedge 
without honesty is generally thought to dispose 
a person, as well as^ qualify him to deceive. 
Quintilian, in treating upon n^rr^ilow, has a very* 
remarkable passage to this purpose, which I shall 
here transcribe. / wMs.t not omit, says he, how 
much the authority of the speaker gives credit fa 
what he relates, which is to be gained principally 
by his life, ami partly from his manner of speaks 
ing. And what Quintilian observes here with 
respect to narration, the best writers all recom- 
mend as necessary through the whole conduct 
pf an orator. 

Arid to both these qualities the appearanceof 
kindness and benevolence should likewise bo 
added. For though a person have the reputa-^ 
tion of wisdom and honesty, yet if we apprehend^ 
he is either not j well affected to us, or at least 
regardless of: our interest, we are in many cases 
apt to be jeaWus; of: him. Mankind are natural- 
ly swayed by their affections, and much in- 
fluenced through love or friendship ; and there- 
fore nothing has a greater tendency to induce 
persons to credit what is said than intimations 
of affection and kindness. The best orators have 
been« always sensible what great influence the 
expressions of 'kindness and benevolence have 
upon, the minds of others, to induce them to be- 
lieve the truth 6f'what they say; and therefore. 

2b S 



374 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR . 

they fre(juently endeavour fo impress tbem witfc 
the opinion of it. Thus Demosthenes begins hift 
celebrated oration for Ctesiphon : h ism) ktkrty 
prayety says he, to all the deities y that this my de- 
feiice may be received by you xmth the same qfbc^ 
tion zvhidi I iiave always expressed for you and 
your city. And it is a very fine image of it 
whicR we hacve in Cicero, where, in order to in- 
fluence the judges in favour of Milo, he intro- 
duces him speaking thus, as became a brave 
ihan, and a patriot, even upon the supposition be 
should be condemned by them : / bid tnyfelhw 
citizens adieu ; may they continue flourishing and 
prosperous^} may this famous city be preserved, my 
most dear country y however it has treated me ! may 
my fellow citizens enjoy peace and tranquiUity 
ivUhout me, sijice I am not to enjoy it ivith them^ 
though I have procured it for them I I will mtk-^ 
draw J Twill be gone. c 

The fourth and last quality above. mentioned, 
as necessary to the character of aii orator, is wo* 
desty^ And it is certain, that what is modestly 
spoken is generally better received than what 
carries in it an air of boldness and confidence. 
Most persons, though ignorant of a thing, do 
not care to be thought so, and would have some 
deference paid to their underslandiiig. Bat lie 
who delivers himself in an anragant snd assu- 
ming way seems to upbraid his nearets with ig- 
norance, while he does not leave them. to. judge 
for themselves, but dictates to them, and, as it 
were, demands their assent to what he says; 
which is certainly a very improper method to 
win upon them. For not a few^ when convinc- 
ed of an error in such a way, will not own it, 
hut will rather adhere to their former opinion 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. ^15 

than seem forced to think right, when it gives 
another the opportunity of a triumph. A pru- 
dent orator, therefore, will behave himself wkh 
modesty, that he may not seem to insult hh 
hearers; and will, set things before them in such 
an engaging manner as may reipoye all preju- 
dice, either from his person, or what he asserts. 
But, at the same time, firmness and resolution is 
as necessary as modesty, that he may appear to 
confide in the justice and truth of his cause. For 
to speak timorously, and with hesitation, de^ 
rtroys the credit of what is offered ; and so far a$ 
the speaker seems to distrust what he says himt 
^If, he often induces others to do the like. 

But, as has been said already, great care is td 
be taken that these characters do not appear 
feigried and counterfeit. For what is fictitious 
can ^Mom be long concealed. And if this be 
once discovered, it makes all that is said su'- 
spected, bow specious soever it may otherwise 
appear. If men always loved tr^th for its owA 
excellency, it would be sufficient to propose il 
clearly and plainly 5 nor would the assistance of 
Mt te ne<:essiiiry5 in order to indoce them tt3f 
embrace it. But it frequently happens, thfet 
taruth clashes with what men account their ihV 
terest, and for that reason they will not regard 
it. An ungrateful truth lyilj either not be heard, 
or soon discarded. And many times where per- 
sons cannot contradict what is offered, yet, if 
that contradict their settled opinions, they will 
still suppose it may not be true. Nor is it a dif- 
ficult -thing for persons to bring themselves to 
«uch a belief, while they forbear calmly and se- 
riously to consider the arguments offered on the 
other side, Acid syinee jnatters are thus, it i«^ 

2 B 4 



316 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

often necessary for the oratoi'to have recourse 
tfi art, in ord^fc to obtain that which otherwise 
he cannot come at. For thispurpose, therefore, 
.it is very serviceable to accommodate his dis- 
course to the temper and inclination of his audi^ 
ence. Nor indeed can anyone reasonably hope-to 
succeed in this province without well consider- 
ipg the circumstances of time and place, with 
.the sentiments and dispositions of those to whom 
he speaks j which, according to Aristotle, may 
be distinguished four ways, as they discover 
themselves by the several qffectUms^ habits^ ages, 
and fortunes of mankind. And each of these 
require a different conduct and manner of ad* 
dress. 

•^ The affections denote certain emotions of the 
^lind, which, during their continuance, give a 
great turn to the disposition. For love prompts 
Jo. one thing, and hatred to another. The like 
jjpiay be said of anger, lenity, and the rest of 
^2^ ; as I shall show, when I come to treat of 
Stfiem particularly. 

Persons differ likewise according to the vari- 
ous. Aa^^V^ of their mind. So a just man is in- 
clined one way, and an unjust man another; a 
temperate man to this, and an intemperate mun 
to the contrary. 

And as to the several ages of men, Aristotle 
has described them very accurately, and how 

Jersons are differently affected in each of them, 
shall content myself with the substance of 
what he says, to prevent being tedious* He di^ 
vides the lives of men, considered as hearers; 
into three stages; — youth, middle age, and old 
.age. Young men, he says, have generally strong 
passions, and are very eager to. obtain what 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- STT 

they desire 5 but are likewise very mutab1e> so 
that the same thing does not please them long. 
They are ambitious of praise, and quick in their 
lesentments ; lavish of their money, as not hav* 
ing experiejiced the v;rarit of it: frank an4 
open, because they have not often been de- 
ceived; and credulous for the same reason. 
They readily hope the best, because they have 
not. suffered mhich, and are therefore not so sen- 
sible of the uncertainty of human affairs; for. 
which reason they are likewise more easily de- 
cjeived. They are modest from their little ac- 
quaintance with the world- They love company 
and cheerfulness, from the briskness of their 
^ spirits ; ,and think well of their friends. They 
imagine they know more than they do, and for 
that reason are apt to be too positive. In a 
word, they generally exceed in what they do, 
love violently, hate violently, and act in the same 
manner through the rest of their conduct. 

The disposition of old men is generally con- 
trary to the former. They are cautious, and en- 
tjer upoa nothing hastily ; having in the course 
of many years been often imposed upon, having 
often erred, and experienced the prevailing cor- 
ruption of human affairs; for which reason they 
qre likewise suspicious, and moderate in their 
affections, either of love or hatred. They pursue 
nothing great and noble, and regard only the 
necessaries of life. They love money, having 
learnt by experience tfie difficulty of getting it, 
and how easily it is lost. They are fearful, which 
makes them provident — Commonly full of com- 
plaints from bodily infirmities, and a deficiency 
of spirits— Please themselves rather with the 
mempry of what is past than any future pro- 



37S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

9f>eQV having so short a view of life before thein> 
ii) comparison of vrhat is aJready gone; for 
which reason also they love to talk of things 
past, and prefer them to what is present, of 
which they have but little relish, and know they 
mast shortly leave them. They are soon angry, 
but not to excess. Lastly, they are compas- 
sionate, from a sense of their own infinnities, 
which makes them think themselves of alt p^^* 
sons most exposed. 

Persons of a middle age, betwixt these two ex** 
tremes, as they are freed from the rashness and 
temerky of youth, so they have not yet suffered 
the decays of old age. Hence in every thing 
they generally observe a better conduct. They 
are neither so hasty in their assent as the one, 
nor so minutely scrupulous as the other, but 
weigh the reasons of things. They regard a de- 
cency in their actions, are careful and industri* 
ous; and, as they undertake wlwtt appears just 
and laudable upon better and more deliberate 
consideration than young persons, so they pur- 
sue them with more vigor ^nd nssolutipn than 
those who arc older, 

As to the different fortunes of maaikiad, they 
may be considered as noble, rich, or powerful ; 
and the contrary to these. Those of high birth, 
and noble extraction, are generally very tender 
of their honour, and ambitious to increase it; it 
being natural for all persons to desire an addi- 
tion to those advantages, of which they find 
themselves already possessed. And they are apt 
to consider all others as nmch their inferiors, and 
therefore expect great regard and deference 
should be shown them. Riches, when accom- 
panied with a generous temper, command respect 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. SW 

from the opportunities they give of being lisefal 

to others ; fcrat they usually elate the mind, atid 

occasion pride. For as money is commonly said 

to command all things, those who are possessed 

of a large share of it expect others should be at 

their beck; since they enjoy that which ail de- 

, sire, and most persons make the main pursuit of 

their Jives to obtain. But nothing is more apt to 

swell the mind than power. This is what all men 

/■■■' naturally covet, even when perhaps they would 

■ not use it. But the views of such persons arc 

y generally more noble and generous than of 

. ;;: those who only pursue riches, and the heaping 

••'I-SV up of money. A state contrary to these gives a 

■ \A.. contrary turn of mind ; and, in lower life, persons* 

: ^ H dispositions usually differ according to their sta- 

/.^jtioaiand circumstances. A citizen and acour- 

•\l:y tier, a merchant and a soldier, a scholar and a 

v.'f peasant, as their pursuits are different, so. is ge* 

-';; nerally their turn and disposition of mind. 

It is the orator's business, therefore, to consi- 
der these several characters and circumstances 
of life, with the different bias and way of think- 
ing they give to the mind ; that he may so con- 
duct himself in his behaviour and manner of 
speaking, as will render him most acceptable, 
and gain him the good esteem of those to whom 
be addresses. 



Of the Passions , 

The third and last part of rhetorical inven- 
tion relates to the passions, of which I am now 
to discourse. And as it is often highly necessary 
for the orator, so it requires his greatest skill to 
engage these in his interest. Qulntilian calls 



»80 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

this. The soul and spirit of his art. And, doubt* 
less, nothing more discovers its empire over the 
minds of men than this power to excite, ap- 

Sease, and sway their passions, agreeably to the 
esign of the speaker. Hence we meet with 
the characters of admirable y divine ^ and other 
splendid titles, ascribed to eloquence by ancient 
writers. There is nothing great or noble to be 
performed in life, wherein the passions are not 
concerned. The stoics, therefore, who were for 
eradicating the passions, both maintained a thing 
in itself impossible^ and, if it was possible, 
would be of the greatest prejudice to mankind. 
For while they appeared such zealous asserters 
of the government of reason, they scarce left it 
any thing to govern ; for the authority of reason 
is principally exercised in ruling and moderating 
the passjions, which, when kept in a due regu- 
lation, are the springs and motives to virtue. 
Thus hope produces patience, and fear indus-t 
try, and the like might be shown of the rest. The 
passions, therefore, are not to be extirpated, as 
the stoics asserted, but put under the direction 
and conduct of reason. Indeed, where they are 
ungovernable, and, instead of obeying command, 
they are, as some have^fitly called them, diseases 
qf the mind^ and frequently hurry men into vice, 
and the greatest misfortunes of life. Just as the 
wind, when it blows moderately, carries on the 
ship^ but if it be too boisterous and violent, 
may overset her. The charge, therefore, brought 
against this art, for giving rules to influence the 
passions, appears groundless and unjust ; since 
the proper use of the passions is not to hinder 
the exercise of reason, but to engage men to act 
agreeably to reason ; and if an ill use be sonie<^ 



*• • 



I* 



• 



♦ » 



• ■ 



•4. 



mSmcmCAL GRAMMAR. 381 

tiibes made of this, it is not tthe fault of the art, 
but the 'ai;tist» So moralists -explain the nature 
both of -virtues and- vices, that men may knowr 
better iiow to practise one^ and avoid the other; 
but if their precepts happen to have a different 
effect, they are not answerable for that. 
. Butthat an orator may be enabled to manage 
this part of his province to the best advantage, 
it is necessary be should, in some measure, be 
acquainted with the nature, causes, and objects 
of the passions. Now the passions, as defined 
by Aristotle, are. Commotions of the mind,. under 
the influence' of which men think differently con- 
cermng the same things. Thus a thing appears 
good to him who desires it; though it may not 
appear so to another, or to the same person at a! 
different time. Writers are not agreed as- to the 
number, of the passions. But I shall wave this 
dispute,' as the more proper, business of philoso*- 
pby, and only consider them as they come un-. 
der the cognizance of the orator. Audi that I' 
may proceed in some order, I shall treat of them 
as they ibay be separately referred, either to de* 
m0nstrative, deliberative, or judicial discowscis ; 
though they are not wholly confined to any of 
them. . . . , 

.To the demonstrative kind we may refer joy 
and sorrow, love and hatred, emulation and co«- 
tempt. ; . 

Joy is an elation of the mind, arising^ from 2^ 
sense of some present good. Such a reflection 
naturally creates a pleasant arid agreeable sen- 
sation, which ends in a delightful calm and se- 
renity. This is heightened by a description of 
former evils, and a comparison between them 
and the present felicity. Thus Cicero endea* 



182 S(H£TOtUCAL 

yours to excite in the minds of his fellow cki^ 
zens the highest sense of joy and delight at Ca- 
tiline's departure from Rome, by representing to 
them the imminent danger which threatened 
both them and the city^ while he continued 
among them. 

Sorrow^ on the contrary, is an Uneasiness of 
mind^ arising from a sense of some present evil. 
This passion has generally a place in fimereal 
discourses. And it may he heightened like the 
Ibrmer by comparison, when any.p^st happiness 
is set in opposition to a present calamity. Hence 
Cicero aggravates the sorrow at Rome, occa* 
sloned by the death of Metellus, from his cha-> 
racter> and great services to the public while 
Kving- 

Lote excites us to esteem another for some 
excellency, and to do him all the good in our 
power ^ It is distinguished {romfriendshsip^ which 
IS mutual ;^ and tnerefore love may continue 
where friendship is lost; that is, the afEection 
may remain on one side. And when we assist a 
person from no other motive, but to do him a 
kindness, Aristotle calls this good wilt. Love 
takes its rise from a variety of causes. Genero- 
sity, benevolence, integrity, gratitude, courtesy, 
and other social virtues, are great incitements 
to lovje any one endued with such qualities. And 
persons generally love those who are of a like 
ddspQsition with themsehres, and pursue the same 
views. It is therefore thp chief art of a flatterer 
to suit himself in every thing to the inclination 
of the person whose good graces he courts. 
WheuNthe orator would excite this affection to- 
wards any person, it is proper to show that he is 
possessed of some at least, if not all these agrees 



RliETOklCAL C3lL/l1^tMAR. 3SS 

able qualities. When the conspirators witii Ca- 
tiline were to be brought to justice, Cicsro was 
Very sensible of the envy he should contract on 
that account, and bow necessary it Was for him 
to secure the love of the Roman senate for his 
support and protection in that critical juncture* 
And this he endeavours to do in his fourth ora- 
tion against Catiline, by representing to them, 
in the most pathetic manner, diat all the labours 
he underwent, the difficulties he conflicted with, 
and the dangers.to which he was exposed on that 
account, were not for his own sake^ but for their 
safety, quiet, and happiness. 

Hatred is opposed to love, and prodjuced by 
the contrary dispositions. And.theretbte persons 
hate those who never did them any injury, from 
the ill opinion they have of their base and.vi* 
cious inclinations. So that the way to excite this 
passion is, by showing that any one. has com-' 
mitted some heinous fact with an ill intent* 
And the more nearly affected persons are by such 
actions, in what they accbunt of the greatest 
concern, the higher in. proportion, their hatred 
rises. Since life therefore is esteemed the most 
valuable good, Cicero endeavours to render 
Mark Anthony odious to the citizens of RomCj^ 
by describing his cruelty. 

Emulation is a disquiet, occasioned by thefeli- 
licity of another, not because he enjoys it, but 
because we desire the like for ourselves. So that 
&is passion is in itself gCMod and laudable, as it 
engages men to pursue those things which are 
so. For the proper objects of emulation are any 
advantages of mind, body, or fortune, acquired 
by study or labour. And parsons are generally ex-, 
cited to an emulation of those with whom they 



SM RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

converse. So children are often ambitious of the 
like virtues or honours , wliich they see in their 
relations or friends. And therefore it was a very 
proper question of Andromache to i£neas» con* 
cerning Ascanius^ which we have in Virgil: 

** What hopes are promis'd from his blooming years f 
How much of Hector's soul in him appears V^ 

Emulation therefore is excited by a lively repre* 
sentation of any desirable advantages, which ap« 
pear to be attainable from the examples of others 
who are, or have been, possessed ox them. But 
where the felicity of another occasions an uneasi- 
ness, not from the want of it, but because he en- 
joys it, this passion is called envys which the 
ancients describe as an hideous monster, feeding 
upon itself, and being its own tormentor. Aris- 
totle observes, that it most usually affects such 
persons who were once upon a level with those 
they envy. For most men naturally think so- 
well of themselves, that they are uneasy to see 
those who were formerly their equals SKivanced 
above them. But as this is a base and vicious, 
passion, the orator is not to be informed how to 
excite it, but how to lessen or remove it. And 
the method prescribed by Cicero for this pur- 
pose is, to show that the things which occasioned 
It have not happened to the envied person un- 
deservedly, but are the just reward of his indus- 
try or virtue ; that he does not so much convert 
them to his own profit or pleasure, as to the be- 
nefit of others ; and the same pains and difHcul- 
ties are necessary to preserve them with vvhich 
they were at first acquired. 

Contempt is opposed to emulatioriy and arises, 
from misconduct in things not of themselves vi- 
cious: as where a person either acts below hia. 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 385 

station and character; or affects to do that for 
which he is not qualified. Thus Cicero endea-' 
vours to expose Caecilius, and bring hitn into the' 
contempt of the court, for pretending to rivar 
him in the accusation 'of Verres, for which he 
was altogether unfit. ^ 

To deliberative discourses may be referred 
fear, hopey^nd shame. . 

Fear arises from the apprehension of some 
great and impending evil. For the greatest 
evils, while they appear at a distance, do not 
much affect us. Such persons occasion fear, 
who are possessed with power, especially if they 
have been injured, or apprehend s6. Likewise 
those who are addicted to do injuries, or who bear 
Us an ill will. And the examples of others, who 
have suffered in a like Case, or from the same 
persons, help to excite fear. From the circum- 
stances therefore either of the thing, or person, it 
will not be difficult for the orator to offer such 
arguments as may be proper to awaken this 
passion. So Demosthenes^ when he would per- 
suade the Athenians to put themselves in a con- 
dition of defence against king Philip, enume- 
rates the several acts of hostility already com- 
mitted by him against the neighbouring states. 
And because men's private concerns generally 
more affect them than what relates to the pub- 
lic, it is proper sometimes to show the necessa- 
ry connection these have with each other, and 
how the ruin of one draws the other after it. 

The contrary passion to fear is hopey which 
arises, either from a prospect of some future 
good, or the apprehension of safety from those 
things which occasion our fear. Young per- 
sons are easily induced to hope the best, from the 

2 c 



tse RHETORICAL GRAMMAR- 

vigour of their spirits. And those who have 
escaped former dangers are encouraged to hope 
for tne like happy success for the future. The 
examples of others also> especially of wise and 
consiaerate men, have often the same good 
effect. To find them calm and sedate, when ex- 
posed to the like dangers, naturally creates con- 
fidence, and the hopes of safety. But nothing 
gives persons such firmness and steadiness of 
mind, under the apprehension of any difficulties, 
as a consciousness of their own integrity and in* 
nocence. Let dangers come from what quarter 
they will, they are best prepared to receive, 
them. They can calmly view an impending tem- 
pest, observe the way of its approach, and pre- 
pare themselves in the best manner to avoid it. 
In .Cicero's oration for the Manilian law, he en- 
courages the Roman citizens to hope for suc- 
cess against Mithridates, if they choose Pompey 
for their general, from the many instances o| his 
former successes, which he there enumerates;. 
We find in history, that artful men have fre- 
uently made use of omens and prodigies with 
e populace, either to awaken or expel their 
fears, and that with the greatest success. But 
such arguments are not much regarded by wise, 
and prudent men. In the time of the civil wars 
between Caesar and Pompey, when the aflPairs of 
Pompey*s party were very much broken and 
shattered, one who was in that interest endea- 
voured to animate the rest, and excite them to 
push on the war \yith vigour, from a lucky omen 
(as it was then thought) of seven eagles, which 
were observed to settle in their camp. But 
Cicero, who was then present, and knew very 
well the vanity of such reasoning, ipii^^di^fely 



I 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. . 381 

feplied : That such an happy incident might in- 
deed prove of service to theniy if they were tofght 
with jackdaws. 

Shajne arises from the appreherisiori of thpse 
things that hurt a person's character. Modesty 
Aas been wisely implanted in mankind b^ the 
great author of nature, as a guardian of virtue, 
which ought for this reason to be cherished with 
the greatest care ; because, as Seneca has well 
observed, if it be once lost, it is scarce ever to be 
recovered. Therefore the true cause or founda- 
tion of shame is any thing base or vicious; for 
this wounds the character, and will not bear re- 
flection. And he must arrive at.no small degree 
of insensibility, who can stand against such a 
charge, if he be conscious to himself that it is 
just. Therefore to deter persons from vicious 
actions, or to expose them for the commission 
of them, the orator endeavours to set them in 
such a light as may most awaken this passion, 
and give them the greatest uneasiness by •the re- 
flection. And because the bare representation 
<jf the thing itself is not always sufficient for this 
purpose, he sometimes enforces it by enlarging 
the view, and introducing those persons as wit- 
nesses of the fact for whom they are supposed 
to have the greatest regard. Thus when some 
of the Athenians, in an arbitration about certain 
lands which had been referred to them by the 
contending parties, proposed it as the shortest 
way of deciding the controversy to take the pos- 
session of them into their own hands, Cydias, a 
member of the assembly, to dissuade th^m from 
such an unjust action, desired them to imagine 
themselves at that time in the general assem- 
bly of the stat*es of Greece (who would atl bear' 

2 c3 



J8S RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

of it shortly) and then consider how it was pro- 
per to "act. But where t)ersoiis labour under an 
excess of modesty, which prevents them from 
exerting themselves in things fit iand laudable, 
it may sometimes be necessary to show that it 
is faulty and ill grounded. On the other hand, 
immodesty or impudence^ which consists in a 
contempt of such things as affect the reputa- 
tion^ can never be too much discouraged and. 
exposed. And the way of doing this is to make 
use^ of such arguments as are most proper to 
excite shame. We have a very remarkable in- 
stance of it in Cicero's second Philippic, where- 
in he affixes this character upon Mark Anthony, 
through every scene of his life. 

1 come now to those passions which may be 
referred to /?^rf/aa/ discourses; — and these are 
anger and lenity y pity and indignation. 

Anger is a resentment, occasioned by some 
affront or injury done without any just reason^ 
Now iiren are more inclined to resent such a 
conduct, as they think they less deserve it, 
'fherefore persons of distinction and figure, who 
expect a regard should be paid to their charac- 
*:er,canthe lessbear any indications of contempt. 
And those who are eminent in any profession or 
faculty are apt to be offended, if reflections are 
cast either upon their reputation or art. Ma-f 
gjstrates also, and persons in public stations, 
sometimes thiak it incumbent on them to resent 
indignities, for the support of their office; But 
nothing sooner inflames this passion,, than if 
good services are rewarded with slights and 
neglect. The instance of Narsites, the Roman 
general, is remarkable in this kind; who, after 
he had been very successful in his wars with the 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. S89 

Goths, falling under the displeasure of the em- 
jperor Justin, was removed from the government 
of Italy, and received by the empress with this 
taunt : Tliat he must be sent to weave among the 
girls: which so provoked him, that he said he 
would weave such* a web as they should never 
be able to unravel. And accordingly he soon 
after brought down the Longobards, a people of 
Germany, into Italy, where they settled them- 
selves in that part of the country which, from 
them, is now called Lombardy. The time and 
place in which an injury was done, and other 
circumstances that attended it, may Hkewise con- 
tribute very much to heighten the fact. Hence 
Demosthenes, in his oration against Midias, 
endeavours to aggravate the injury of being 
struck by him>. both as he was then a magis- 
trate, and because it was done at a public festi- 
val. From hence it appears, that the persons 
who most usually occasion this passion are such 
who neglect the rules of decency, contemn and 
insult others, or oppose their inclinations; as 
likewise the ungrateful, and those who violate 
the ties of friendship, or requite favours with in- 
juries. But when tne orator endeavours to ex- 
cite anger, he should^ be careful not to exceed 
due bounds in aggravating the charge, lest what 
. he says appear rather to proceed from preju- 
dice, than a strict regard to the demerit of the 
action. 

Lenity is the remission of anger. The designs 
of men's actions are principally to be regarded ; 
and therefore what is done ignorantly, or through, 
inadvertency, is sooner forgiven. Also to ac- 
knowledge a fault, submit, and ask pardon, are 
the ready means to take X)ff resentment ; for a 



i90 RHEtOKICAl\ GRAMMAR. 

generous mind is soon cooled bjr submission. 
Besides he. who repents of his fault does really 
give the injured party some satisfaction> by pu- 
nishing himself, as all - repentance is attended 
iRrith grief, and uneasiness of mind ; and this is 
apt very much to abate the desire of revenue : 
as, on the contrary, nothing is more provokmg 
ftanwhen the offender either audaciously justi- 
fies the fact, or confidently dfenies it. Men ate 
likewise wont to lay aside their resentment, 
when their adversaries happen by some other 
means to suffer, what they think a sufficient sa- 
tisfaction. Lastly, easy circumstances, a lucky 
incident, or any thing which gives the mind sL 
turn to mirth and pleasure, has a natural tenden- 
cy to remove anger : for anger is accompanied 
with pain and uneasiness, vs/hich very ill suit joy 
and cheerfulness. The orator therefore, in order 
to assuage and pacify the minds of his auditors, 
^ill endeavour to lessen their opinion of the 
fault, and by that means to take off the edge of 
their resentment. And to this purpose, it wiJl be 
proper either to represent, that the thing was not 
designed, or that the party is sorry for it ; or to 
mention his former services; as also to show the 
credit and reputation which will be gained by 
a generous forgiveness. And this last topic is 
very artfully wrought up by Cicero, in his ad- 
dress to Caesar, in favour of Ligarius. 

Pity arises frorn the calamities of others, by 
reflecting that we ourselves are liable to the like 
misfortunes. So that evils, considered as the 
common lot of human nature, are principally the 
cause of pity. And this makes the difference be- 
tween p//y ^nd good'Zvilly which y^s I have shown 
already, arises merely from a regard to the circum- 



RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 3Bl 

stances of those who want our assistance. But 
considering the uncertainty of every thing about 
us, he must seem in a manner divested of hu- 
manity, who has no compassion for the calami- 
ties of others ; since there is no aflSiction, which 
happens to any man, but either that, or some 
other as great, may fall upon himself. But those 
persons are generally soonest touched with thi$ 
passion who have met with misfortunes them- 
selves. And by how much greater the distress 
is, or the person appears less deserving it, the 
higher pity does it excite ; for which reason per- 
sons are generally most moved at the misfor- 
tunes of their relations and friends, or those of 
the best figure and character. The orator there- 
fore, in order to excite the greater pity, will en-^ 
deavour to heighten the idea of the calamity, from 
the several circumstances both of the thing it- 
self, and the person who labours under it. A. 
fine example of this may be seen in Cicero's de- 
fence of Muraena. 

Indignation, as opposed to pity^ is an uneasi- 
ness at the felicity or another, who does not seem 
to deserve it. But this respects only external ad- 
vantages, such as riches, nonours, and the like ; 
for virtues cannot be the object of this passion, 
Aristotle therefore says, that pity, and indignation 
are generally to he found in the same persons ^ andi 
are both evidences of a good disposition. Now the 
orator excites this passion, by showing the per-i 
son to be unworthy of that felicity which he en-, 
joys. And as, in order to move compassion, it is 
sometimes of use to compare the former happy 
state of the person with his present calamity, 
so here the greater indignation is raised, by com- 
paring his fprmer mean circumstances witji his 



1 



392 RHETORICAL GRAMMAR. 

present advancement : as Cicero does in the' 
case of Valinius. 

These are the passions with which an orator 
is principally corlccrned. In addressing to which, 
not only the greatest warmth and force of ex- 
pression is often necessary, but he must like- 
wise first endeavour to impress his own mind 
with the same passion he would excite in 
others, agreeably to that of Horace : 

My grief with others' just proportion boara; 
To make- me weep, you must be first in tears. 



Thus far the learned Professor Ward on that 
part of Oratory called Invention ; in which we 
perceive he has followed the ancients, step by 
step, but not without several judicious observa- 
tions of his own. On all subjects that do not 
admit of experiment or demonstration, I own I 
am a great friend to authority: and when the 
ancients unanimously, and almost all the mo- 
derns down to Priestley and Ward, recommend 
the topics or common places, I cannot think 
they can be unworthy of attention. Let those 
who do not fee! themselves in want of such as^ 
sistance enjoy their superiority, and leave the 
less-gifted part of their species to such resources 
as arc suited to the mediocrity of their abilities. 
TThis part of Rhetoric, therefore, which ought to 
have been the first, is reserved to the last, that 
the student, if he pleases, may more easily omit 
the perusal of it. 



' f I I l aasa 



Trinted hy S. Hamilton, Falcon-Ccurtf F/cei'SitHfy London, 



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